GIFT OF 
 Hearst Fountain 
 
CLAUDIO AND ANITA 
 
DON FRANCISCO LOPEZ 
 
 Father of the author, who delighted to tell his children stories 
 
 and romances of his youthful days, especially stories of his 
 
 grandfather, Claudio Lopez (the hero of this story), some of 
 
 which are included here. 
 
CLAUDIO 
 AND ANITA 
 
 A Historical Romance 
 
 of San Gabriel s Early 
 
 Mission Days 
 
 BY 
 MARIA S. LOPEZ de CUMMINGS 
 
 Published by 
 
 J. F. ROWNY PRESS 
 
 Los Angeles, Cal. 
 1921 
 
"* J f j * * */* * 
 
 */- * . . - 
 
 * *" < 
 
 Copyright, 1921 
 
 by 
 
 Maria S. Lopez de Cummings 
 Los Angeles 
 
 
 ]^ 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 To DR. FRANCIS L. HAYNES 
 
 A MAN OF GENIUS WHOSE FIDELITY 
 TO DUTY WAS HIS FOREMOST CHARAC 
 TERISTIC. IN TOKEN OF HIS NOBLE 
 DEEDS, AND WITH GRATEFUL AND UN 
 FADING MEMORIES, THIS LITTLE WORK 
 IS AFFECTIONATLY DEDICATED. "HE 
 BEING DEAD YET SPEAKETH." 
 
 466521 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 By JOHN STEVEN MCGROARTY, Author of "The Mission Play" 
 
 The pages of this book will tell a story of old 
 San Gabriel. It is a true tale, and therefore the 
 more alluring and fascinating because it is still the 
 fact that "truth is stranger than fiction." 
 
 But it still remains true, also, that it is a high 
 and great art to clothe truth in that shining garb 
 which fiction has immemorially worn to attract 
 lovers to her train. And you will find when you 
 have read this story that Mrs. Cummings is a new 
 master of that old art of clothing truth in fiction s 
 shining garb. 
 
 San Gabriel is a place in the world about which 
 romance clusters as the tendrils of a vine cluster 
 upon an ancient wall. From the very beginning 
 of the white man s occupation of California it was 
 a busy and important place. It was the place where 
 the fourth link of the chain of great Franciscan 
 Missions in California was forged, and it s Mis 
 sion came to be known as the "Queen of the 
 Missions." 
 
 It was a great place indeed that San Gabriel 
 came to be. In the Mission days it was noted for 
 both it s great achievements and it s tireless hospi 
 tality. Travellers who made their names immortal 
 entered it s sunny portals and were sheltered under 
 it s rafters. The wanderer was fed at it s groan 
 ing boards boards that groaned with plenty 
 
 vii 
 
viii Introductory 
 
 and were given rest in the peace and joy that 
 dwelt so long under it s roof. 
 
 It is a place that Time has now changed out 
 of all recognition of what once it was. And you 
 will know this better when you have finished the 
 last page of the fascinating story that is here writ 
 ten. Only the church remains of what was once 
 the vast establishment of the Mission of San 
 Gabriel. 
 
 Now, what Mrs. Cummings has done in the 
 pages of this book, is to recreate for your imagi 
 nation the San Gabriel that used to be in the old 
 days that are gone by and passed away forever. 
 As you read this story the hands of the clock of 
 Time will be turned backward for you and you 
 will have as your companions those who are now 
 long since with the dust of places that they knew 
 and loved. You will see what joys and what sor 
 rows were theirs and how they lived and had their 
 being. 
 
 It is the artist in literature alone who can ac 
 complish a miracle like this. And Mrs. Cummings 
 has done it first of all because in her childhood 
 and youth she knew and loved the old San Gabriel 
 of which she writes. And also it was a place that 
 was well known to her fathers before her. And 
 she writes with a charm that is the charm of 
 memory. 
 
 Wherefore, to all who love a good story, and to 
 everyone who love beauty, I commend this book. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Among the brave heroes, who sacrificed their 
 lives to spread Christianity and civilization in the 
 early settlement of this country, was our hero, 
 Claudio Lopez y de la Mora. While yet in his 
 early twenties, he left his elegant and cultured 
 surroundings, in answer to the appeal of the mis 
 sionaries for assistance in their work, at the ardent 
 wish of his illustrious mother. 
 
 Though not of a religious order, he laboured 
 among the Indians. How he taught them the in 
 dustries and arts, as well as how to cultivate the 
 land, and how he won their love, obedience and 
 respect, has received but scant notice in the pages 
 of history. Although the foundations of the mis 
 sion church at San Gabriel, where he labored, 
 were already laid, he supervised the erection of 
 the church, and the mill (the first this side of the 
 rockies) and of other minor buildings, in the con 
 struction of which a knowledge of architecture 
 and engineering was required. 
 
 He was born of noble parents, in the north of 
 Spain. His love for the wonderful beauties of 
 nature, and a deep religious sentiment, gave his 
 life that remarkable sweetness and beauty for 
 which he was noted. 
 
 His unselfish and loving devotion to his work, 
 coupled with great personal suffering and sorrow, 
 is a lesson fraught with meaning for men who 
 
x Preface 
 
 suffer, yet work and hope for better things. He 
 spent most of his spare moments in writing, and, 
 it is believed, that he wrote his memoirs, which, 
 unfortunately, were destroyed by fire, together 
 with other valuable documents, the day of his sud 
 den death. It would have given great pleasure to 
 have seen and read his manuscripts, but, since it 
 has been ordained otherwise, we submit to the 
 inevitable. 
 
 In the Mission Church of San Gabriel is the 
 tomb of our hero, Claudio Lopez y de la Mora. 
 
 I am indebted to my sister, Mrs. Francisca Lopez 
 de Bilderain, for the valuable research work and 
 information which has aided me in this work. I 
 hereby return to her my warmest thanks. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
Table of Contents 
 
 INTRODUCTORY . . , vii 
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 Chapter 
 
 I. THE COMING OF THE HERO 13 
 
 II. THE FEAST OF THE HOLY CROSS AND ANITA 18 
 
 III. CLAUDIO AND ANITA PLEDGE THEIR TROTH 24 
 
 IV. "A SATAN INCARNATE WORKS His WILES" 31 
 V. OUTLAWS PLY THEIR NEFARIOS VOCATION 39 
 
 VI. "MY WORD, IT CANNOT BE RECALLED" . . 45 
 
 VII. CLAUDIO SUCCESSFUL IN His MISSION. ... 50 
 
 VIII. "MY LOVE, FOREVER WE MUST PART" ... 55 
 
 IX. SNATCHED FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH ... 62 
 
 X. "You HAVE THE WRONG MAN !" 69 
 
 XL FATE RESCUES ANITA FROM DON MISHEL 75 
 
 XII. "FATHER, I AM RESIGNED" 81 
 
 XIII. "I CANNOT CURE YOUR MISTRESS MALADY" 91 
 
 XIV. "I DESERVE DEATH, I DESIRE IT !" 98 
 
 XV. "To THE MEMORY OF THEE, SANTA ANITA" 103 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 I. THESE AND OTHER PAGES 113 
 
 II. DON CLAUDIO MOVES TO Los ANGELES. . . 117 
 
 III. A HURRIED SUMMONS TO SAN GABRIEL. . . 120 
 
 xi 
 
xii tfable of Contents 
 
 IV. FATHER SANCHEZ ADDRESS TO THE NEO- 
 
 PHITES 123 
 
 IV. CLAUDIO LOPEZ, A PIONEER OF CIVILI- 
 
 ZATION 126 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 I. RULE OF FRA. JOSE MARIA DE SALVIDEA 
 
 AT SAN GABRIEL MISSION 131 
 
 II. THE DESPOILING OF THE MISSIONS 135 
 
 III. FATHER SALVIDEA S REMOVAL TO SAN 
 
 JUAN CAPISTRANO 137 
 
 IV. THE PASSING OF A NOBLE SOUL. . 139 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 THE COMING OF THE HERO 
 
 [SHIP! A ship!" exclaimed Father Sal- 
 videa. 
 
 "It may be just the spray of a high 
 said Father Juan, the resident priest of 
 San Diego who, in company with Father Salvidea 
 of Mission San Gabriel, had been anxiously look 
 ing for a sight of the long-expected ship. 
 
 Yet, as Father Juan spoke, a ship was sighted, 
 its long, graceful body and gleaming white sails 
 vaguely outlined against a radiantly glowing sky. 
 It was just a modest vessel, but it rolled majes 
 tically into port, bathed in the subdued flashes 
 of the setting sun. 
 
 It was a beautiful spring day in April. The rays 
 of the setting sun were shedding their golden man 
 tle over old Pacific, while all Nature, in primitive 
 and majestic beauty, gave welcome to the heroes 
 who were to serve in further developing and beau 
 tifying the country. 
 
 The countenances of both Fathers Salvidea and 
 Juan beamed with delight, as they welcomed the 
 noble heroes, Juan and Claudio Lopez, who had 
 come in response to Father Salvidea s appeal to 
 the mother country for two young men, physically 
 
 13 
 
14 Claudio and Anita 
 
 strong and capable, who would assist him in his 
 mission work, and who would co-operate with him 
 and help him carry out his plans in the gigantic 
 task before him. The young men, in return, court 
 eously paid homage to the fathers. Father Salvi- 
 dea was immediately impressed with Claudio s 
 distinguished bearing, and he selected him as his 
 assistant. Juan, remaining in San Diego, was to 
 assist Father Juan. 
 
 Claudio, loving the pleasures of life and realiz 
 ing what it meant to be deprived of associates and 
 home, and having abandoned a career he had plan 
 ned for himself, was reluctant in responding to 
 the call. It was then that his illustrious mother 
 appealed to his better nature, bringing before him 
 his duty to the heroic work that would immortal 
 ize his name through all time, and, moreover, 
 would perpetuate the glory of Spain. So, inspired 
 by her fervent prayer, he accepted the task that 
 came into his life. It was then that the most sacred 
 and dearest ties were rent asunder. Was the sac 
 rifice worthy of the cause? 
 
 Claudio, with Father Sal videa, proceeded to San 
 Gabriel. When he reached the mission and sur 
 veyed the wild country and realized the enor 
 mous task that was before him, and contrasted the 
 surroundings with the scenes of his distant and 
 palatial home, it was not to be wondered, that he 
 became disheartened, discouraged and rebellious, 
 
<?he Coming of the Hero 15 
 
 and longed to return. Father Salvidea well knew 
 where his thoughts and heart were. So, sitting 
 beside him, with kind and encouraging words, he 
 presented to him the noble duty that fell to his lot 
 as a soldier of the church and the king. "My son," 
 pleaded he, "accept the honor that is given thee." 
 
 While the father was thus speaking the moon 
 rose, forming glowing shadows around the court 
 where Claudio s bed had been placed. The father 
 said the fresh air would benefit him. How sad he 
 felt, so far away from his family and friends. 
 And those grim shadows! were they phantoms, 
 warning him? What was that one, obscuring the 
 center of the court? Oh, it was only the shadow 
 of the big cross over the eastern door. Neverthe 
 less, that one especially, impressed him immense 
 ly ; it filled his heart with sad forebodings and in 
 creased his home yearnings threefold. Would his 
 cross be as heavy as that one lying near him? 
 Undoubtedly it seemed ominous. 
 
 "What good," thought Cl audio, "will all my 
 studies and vigil do me here? Why did I consent 
 to mother s wishes? Are all plans of life come to 
 an end in this utterly desolate place?" 
 
 "Why has the strand been snapped when my 
 career was reaching its height? 
 
 "Why have 1 been called upon to make this 
 dedication of myself to an obscure ideal? This 
 is a new world, I was told, and I was to assist in 
 
16 Claudio and Anita 
 
 the building up of a great human work for my 
 king, Christianity and civilization. This is a new 
 career open to me; but I never can see anything 
 but desolation. Will I live and die in this far-off 
 land, I a descendant of a great warrior, Juan 
 Lopez, Duke de Medina? I have left my home, 
 the center of elegance and intelligence to plunge 
 into this wild adventure. I want none of it, only 
 the certitude of joy, service and beauty, gardens, 
 flowers and music, art and the refinements of life. 
 I was more eager for pleasure than for glory. I 
 will go back to the old world, my world. Surely 
 some one can be found more fitted than myself for 
 this work!" 
 
 Thus were his thoughts like lead hammers on 
 his heart ; but, weary from the long ride from San 
 Diego, he fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 The following morning broke warm and bril 
 liant. The sun was just peeping over the snow 
 capped tops of the San Antonio mountains, when 
 Claudio opened his eyes slowly, as if afraid to 
 look on the horrid shadows of the night before, 
 but was surprised when he saw the most beautiful 
 morning that ever greeted mortal eyes. Every 
 thing combined to make the scene cheerful. The 
 slender jasmine twigs and many flowers were 
 gracefully yielding to the gentle mountain breeze, 
 impregnating the air with delicious aroma. The 
 mocking-birds were enthusiastic with their ma- 
 
Coming of the Hero 17 
 
 tutinal songs. A pair of white pigeons was coo 
 ing under one of the belfry arches, exactly beneath 
 the historic silver bell. Involuntarily his eyes 
 turned to the center of the court. The sunbeams 
 were there, softly kissing the very spot where the 
 heavy cross lay the night before. 
 
 He sat on the edge of the bed, with his face 
 buried in both hands, and his elbows resting on 
 his knees ; and, in deep thought, fell into a trance- 
 like state in which a new world unfolded before 
 him with a vision of a scene in which his life and 
 heart would form a part. 
 
 CLAUDIO S VISION 
 
 The sun now shining over the San Gabriel 
 mountain peaks throwing its rays over the frozen 
 dew drops of the mountain trees and wild flowers, 
 caused them to sparkle and flash like gems with 
 the iridescent colors of the opal. In the midst of 
 this magnificent scene a vision, a spirit of beauty, 
 met his sight. In a cove of the wood-crowned 
 hills, he saw a beautiful maiden, delicate as a 
 lily, and nymph-like in form; but she looked 
 strangely and tragically sad. Her eyes were large, 
 and blue, yet they were full of sadness. Her 
 mouth had the sweet curves and redness of youth, 
 but it showed an expression of bitterness and 
 anguish, as of deep moral suffering. Her face 
 was flushed, and her bosom rose and fell as in 
 great excitement. On the golden-brown waves of 
 
18 Claudia and Anita 
 
 her hair which, like a tiara, rested on her lovely 
 brow, a white embroidered crepe shawl was fas 
 tened to an elaborate coiffure with a spray of 
 orange blossms. The shawl fell over her arms 
 and partly covered them, but her throat and chest 
 were bare. Her white satin dress fell in soft folds 
 around her graceful figure while white satin slip 
 pers covered her dainty feet. To Claudio, it looked 
 like a heavenly scene. At sight of him, the maid 
 en s face glowed with hope and, with a look full 
 of entreaty, she sprang lightly forward with arms 
 extended toward him. Then the vision swiftly 
 faded. Claudio awoke, thrilled with delight. To 
 him it looked as if angels had lifted the veil which 
 hid the future. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FEAST OF THE HOLY CROSS AND 
 ANITA 
 
 IN unseen hand seemed to have waved a 
 wand, transforming him, giving him a com 
 plete change of heart and a sense of joy. 
 Raising his head suddenly he saw Father Salvi- 
 dea standing before him. He arose and, impuls 
 ively taking Father Salvidea s hand, reverently 
 touched it with his lips and told him that he was 
 ready to take up the work assigned to him. The 
 Father, rejoicing at the change which had come 
 
The Feast of the Holy Cross and Anita 19 
 
 over Claudio, gently touched him on the shoulder 
 and said: 
 
 "I am glad of your decision, my son, and feel 
 that a great load has been lifted off my shoulders ; 
 for I know that I will have an energetic and con 
 genial assistant through the arduous work I have 
 undertaken." 
 
 The father selected a bright and comely youth 
 for Claudio s attendant, and told him to wait 
 upon Senor Lopez, and serve him his breakfast. 
 With light, buoyant steps, Claudio walked to his 
 quarters, which were dull, but spacious, and at 
 another time would have depressed him. While 
 the page went to fetch his chocolate and marque- 
 sote, he stepped out into the open. Recalling his 
 dream, he drew a long breath and looked towards 
 the mountains. How strange! They no longer 
 seem to him grim jailors, but fascinating compan 
 ions. Every rebellious thought which had been in 
 his heart when he arrived in the mission, and all 
 longing to return home, had left him after the 
 sight of that mystical something. 
 
 It is possible that Claudio s sudden change of 
 heart had resulted from the vision dream. How 
 ever, all sadness had left his mind, and the sense 
 of a new emotion gave his existence a novel 
 charm, awakening a mysterious joy within him. 
 Plans were made for his survey of the surround 
 ing country the following morning, the trip to be 
 
20 Claudio and Anita 
 
 made on horseback, and he to be accompanied by 
 one or more servants. 
 
 Although a foundation had been laid at the 
 mission, it was through Father Salvidea s admin 
 istration that the Mission San Gabriel attained its 
 maximum of prosperity. Father Salvidea was 
 gifted with a powerful and masterful mind, in 
 vesting his outward appearance with a spiritual 
 grandeur, a striking dignity that made one, for 
 the moment, awed in his presence ; yet, there was a 
 courteous friendliness in his manner. Though 
 possessed of talents and eloquence by which he 
 could have attained high honors in his native land, 
 he devoted his life to the upbuilding of the coun 
 try within his domain; and to christianizing and 
 civilizing savage Indians. His beneficence was 
 great, for he not only fed the hungry wanderer 
 and gave him a clean bed, but dispatched him, 
 accompanied by a servant, to the next mission, 
 with bread and meat in his wallet. Father Salvi 
 dea was, indeed, one of those remarkable men who 
 so frequently spring up among the religious orders 
 of the Church, and to whose outward simplicity 
 are united immense energy and great power of 
 mind. His perfect life made people speak of him 
 as they would of a saint, with love and rever 
 ence. It was told of him, that he actually per 
 formed miracles. 
 
Feast of the Holy Cross and Anita 21 
 
 As had been planned, Claudio and a servant 
 rode out the following morning to view the sur 
 rounding country. He became fascinated with 
 the panorama. The grandeur of the lofty moun 
 tains, towering above the sloping hills carpeted 
 with innumerable flowers, all massed together in 
 living colors of pink, white and blue, and poppies, 
 which lit their flanks with a golden hue, especially 
 attracted him, while the clear, sweet air, with 
 mingled perfume of flowers, charmed his senses. 
 Moreover, to his great surprise, he saw here and 
 there some well-kept ranch-houses, of home-like 
 appearance, their front yards swept clean as a 
 floor. 
 
 Upon his return to the mission, he related to 
 Father Salvidea what he had seen. The father 
 then told him that at one of the ranch-houses, 
 named La Rosa de Castilla, lived a Spanish gen 
 tleman, with his wife and only daughter, Anita. 
 Next week, on the second of May, that being 
 the Feast of the Holy Cross (La Santa Cruz), 
 there was to be a gathering at La Rosa de Castillo, 
 of the surrounding ranchers to celebrate the day. 
 It was the custom to gather wild flowers to deco 
 rate the cross, and the young people vied with each 
 other to excel in the beauty of the decorations. 
 Moreover, Father Salvidea said that he himself 
 had to go to the senor s house to conduct a simple 
 service connected with the day. He wished Clau- 
 
22 Claudio and Anita 
 
 dio to accompany him, in order to make him ac 
 quainted with the senor and his family. 
 
 On the appointed day, both Father Salvidea 
 and Claudio made their way toward La Rosa de 
 Castillo.^ and on approaching the house were met 
 by the senor, the father introducing Claudio. The 
 senor at once recognized in him a noble son of 
 Spain, and knew his worth. Claudio was a hand 
 some fellow, tall, well built, with an air of hau 
 teur notwithstanding a great charm of manner, 
 light-brown hair, fair complexion, and large gray 
 eyes full of fire. Highly accomplished in the arts 
 and sciences, his early reputation of skill as a 
 fencer and equestrian constituted minor distinc 
 tions to his growing renown as a writer. His ath 
 letic training had made him quick in action and as 
 strong and supple as a young panther. His bear 
 ing was manly and bold, notwithstanding his re 
 served manner. The whole mien of Claudio bore, 
 in a word, that indescribable stamp of distinction 
 that seems to be the peculiar quality and exclusive 
 privilege of aristocratic families. 
 
 Father Salvidea spoke of Claudio s mission, and 
 of the works and improvements needed, which 
 soon would be under way. The senor became very 
 much interested, and offered Claudio the hospi 
 tality of his house as a resting-place in his rounds 
 in the mission work. The house was indeed an 
 ideal place for rest, with its wide veranda extend- 
 
The Feast of the Holy Cross and Anita 23 
 
 ing eighty feet. The posts were overgrown with 
 the passion and other vines, trained to represent 
 arches. The walls of the building surrounded a 
 large and beautiful court yard. Long windows, 
 broken only by the entrance arch, opened on the 
 four sides of the veranda. The quadrangle was a 
 a maze of foliage and blossoms. A fountain played 
 in the center. A profusion of flowers, Castilian 
 roses, jasmine, marigolds and other flowers grew 
 there. The gleam of golden oranges and the paler 
 yellow sweet lime hung amid the glossy foliage. 
 The very air was intoxicating with the fragrance 
 of the flowers. 
 
 Already the young people, sons and daughters 
 of the few families who had come with the mis 
 sionaries, those from far and near had arrived 
 for the afternoon function of the Holy Cross ; but 
 their young hostess, Anita, was not among them, 
 for she had been since early morning, together 
 with her duenna, among the hills, gathering flow 
 ers for the fete. Suddenly Anita, with flushed 
 and animated face sparkling with joy, her arms 
 loaded with flowers and ferns, rode into the 
 courtyard, leaped with nymph-like grace from 
 her saddle, deposited the flowers on a table, and 
 greeted the young girls who flocked around her 
 with an embrace. Senor Cota, with Father Salvi- 
 dea and Cl audio, approached the happy crowd 
 and in a caressing tone called, "Anita, vida mia, 
 
24 Claudio and Anita 
 
 ven aca!" and introduced Claudio. With courtly 
 mien the latter bowed and, with a start, eagerly 
 looked into the beautiful girl s eyes. Confused, 
 and in doubt, he thought, "Where, where have 
 I seen that face?" Anita s eyes lowered. Again 
 their eyes met, and unconsciously they were held 
 by exchanged glances. Then each read in the 
 other s eyes the mutual understanding of a love 
 that comes from soul to soul at first sight, little 
 realizing the pangs and heart-rending scenes that 
 love would bring into their lives. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CLAUDIO AND ANITA PLEDGE THEIR 
 TROTH 
 
 [T the end of a year, much had been done 
 toward improving conditions around San 
 Gabriel Mission. The flour-mill was well 
 under construction, and the aqueduct which was 
 to furnish water to operate the mill was com 
 pleted. The wheat fields in the valley, the corn 
 fields, the vegetable gardens adjacent to the mis 
 sion, all bore eloquent evidence of what had been 
 accomplished within the year. Under Claudio s 
 stern, but considerate management all was pro 
 gressing satisfactorily. So matters crept along. 
 Claudio had declared his love to Anita, but both 
 
Claudio and Anita Pledge their ^froth 25 
 
 kept the secret within their hearts, something mak 
 ing them conscious of a fate that might part them. 
 
 It was a year later, again the first of May, the 
 day before the Feast of the Holy Cross. The 
 young people and their duennas had met at a 
 cove in the hills, and, having agreed to meet there 
 again before starting for home, had separated, to 
 gather their flowers on the sloping hills. It was 
 late in the afternoon. The lights of the setting 
 sun on the Pacific appeared like flaming gold. 
 Snow-capped San Antonio made a background of 
 topaz, and threw a shade of amethyst on the sur 
 rounding peaks. These, together with the sun- 
 kissed hills, made a great contrast to the emerald- 
 shaded valley below. Such was the appearance 
 of the landscape from that beautiful spot. Claudio 
 and Anita stood enraptured at the magnificent 
 panorama. 
 
 Suddenly Claudio looked around with a start. 
 Where were the others ? No one was in sight. 
 "We must hasten to the rendezvous," he said. The 
 shadows began to deepen, but the atmosphere was 
 so clear that myriads of stars could be discerned 
 shining into limitless space. A bright moon began 
 to silver the tips of the trees. Nature exhaled a 
 poetic splendor, and all things seemed to intone a 
 hymn to the Creator with that silent music heard 
 only by the spirit. The mission bells were ringing 
 the Angelus, and their silvery chimes echoed 
 
26 Claudio and Anita 
 
 through the trees like the trill of a bird. Claudio 
 uncovered and lowered his head, and he and Anita 
 repeated, with profound devotion, the Angelus. 
 Finishing the prayer, they hurried on, passing 
 through the most enchanting scenery. Majestic 
 oaks stood by the crystal waters, countless num 
 bers of glow-worms shone like diamonds among 
 the grass and wild flowers, and wild roses without 
 number perfumed the air with their rich fra 
 grance. 
 
 Claudio walked on in silence, the beauty of the 
 place and the constant sight of the lovely girl who 
 moved by his side, making his heart thrill, and he 
 felt himself swayed and vanquished by the volup 
 tuousness of Nature in those favored regions. For 
 was not this marvelously beautiful and princely 
 domain his own*? The king s grant to these lands 
 had just the day before been given him, in recom 
 pense for his faithful services to the mission and 
 the king. Hastening on, Claudio and Anita finally 
 reached the rendezvous, but found no one there. 
 "They must have lost their way," said Anita. 
 "We will wait just a little while, and, if they do 
 not come, I will take thee home," said Claudio, 
 gravely. 
 
 "No, no," said Anita, "I will sing. My voice: 
 will echo through the mountain, and we will build 
 a fire and let it flame up as a signal to them." 
 
Claudia and Anita Pledge their ^roth 27 
 
 They built the fire, then, and both found a seat 
 on a log near by. Anita had been very quiet, but 
 now she burst forth in one of her frolicsome 
 moods. Looking up at the sky, she said: "The 
 moon is shining bright; let us dance while they 
 come." 
 
 "My little wild flower," said Claudio, with 
 an amused smile, "I cannot dance." 
 
 "Oh, it is easy, see," and she held the front of 
 her dress with both hands, just displaying her 
 pretty feet, and with the utmost grace glided back 
 and forth, bending and swaying; yet she could 
 have balanced a glass of water on her head with 
 out spilling a drop. 
 
 Suddenly she stopped dancing, and coming to 
 where Claudio was sitting, encircled his arm with 
 her hands. Anita s moods changed rapidly from 
 a frolicsome spirit to a pensiveness which gave 
 softness to her manner and added charm to her 
 beauty. But fascinating as was her personality, it 
 was the varied expression of her countenance, as 
 her moods changed, that threw such a captivating 
 charm around her. With a sad expression on her 
 upturned face, she questioned, "I wonder what the 
 world will be a hundred years from now? Our 
 world, here on the coast," she said, with emphasis. 
 
 "I will tell thee, cara mia, while thou art in a 
 serious mood," said Claudio, taking up Anita s 
 shawl and fastening it gently under her chin, say- 
 
28 Claudio and Anita 
 
 ing, at the same time, that the dew was falling and 
 was making the air chilly. 
 
 "Anita, dearest," he repeated, "thou knowest 
 my mission here, the work I was called into this 
 land to do in co-operation with our most saintly 
 Father Salvidea. Myself and others will make 
 this favored spot of California, our world , as 
 thou sayest, as beautiful as the far-famed Atlan 
 tis. We will build roads to reach its echanting 
 nooks and commercial ports; we will till the soil, 
 plant trees and flowers; we will build lakes and 
 fountains, whose shimmering and sparkling wa 
 ters will reflect the choicest of flowers and fruits 
 from all climes ; we will dazzle the world with its 
 grandeur ! Brave and zealous heroes, in the name 
 of civilization and Christianity, have laid its foun 
 dation; we will build it up in splendor!" 
 
 He was tense with energy and emotion. With a 
 quick glance over the sloping valley, he contin 
 ued, "Our flag shall ride the seas, far out to our 
 mother-land, illustrious Spain, proclaiming to her 
 that we have made this privileged spot ready for 
 her sons, yea, for her adopted sons also ! A gen 
 eration will rise, and send world-wide praises of 
 the deeds of her brave heroes who first raised the 
 cross, emblem of Christianity, on this coast, and 
 taught the savages to bend the knee before the 
 Holy Cross in reverence to the Divine Being. Peo 
 ples from the four corners of the world shall min- 
 
Claudio and Anita Pledge their tfroth 29 
 
 gle in friendly communion, and spires and domes 
 shall pierce the clouds, a hundred years from 
 now !" 
 
 Anita was awed at Claudio s outburst of emo 
 tion, and exclaimed, "Claudio, Claudio, what art 
 thou saying*?" "Giving vent to the yearnings and 
 ambitions of my heart, dearest," he answered, 
 "also communicating to you the vision I have had 
 of this blessed land. I cannot find words to speak 
 my soul s delight; but with thee by my side I will 
 work incessantly to make this spot worthy of the 
 name I will give it. I am confident of success. All 
 will be dedicated to thee, my love, and on the 
 happy day when I shall call thee my own, then 
 thou wilt be mistress of this beautiful spot." 
 
 Taking hold of both her little hands, he touched 
 them with his lips, continuing, "Anita, wilt thou 
 consent to be my wife in six months from now? 
 We expect the mission ship, in which our house 
 hold goods are coming, also some family jewels, 
 to arrive in three months. As thou knowest, I am 
 the eldest of my two brothers. Wilt thou promise 
 me? My love for thee, sweetheart, is as pure as 
 the snow on yonder peak. For thee, I would give 
 my life many times over. Little one, look up and 
 answer me, tell me thou lovest me." 
 
 With both hands encircling his arm, the slender 
 girl lifted her face toward his and said, "I love 
 thee, Claudio. In this life and after death my 
 
30 Claudio and Anita 
 
 love will still abide, and I promise to be thy wife 
 in six months from now, with my parents con 
 sent." In that radiant uplifted face, young Clau 
 dio saw that her words had come from the inner 
 recesses of her heart. 
 
 "A kiss, my beloved," he cried, "to bind this 
 immortal love." She did not move, but looked 
 straight into his eyes, with trustful consent. He 
 took the beloved face in both his hands, and gently 
 pressed her soft lips with his as a sacred seal of 
 their solemn vows. The twilight pervaded the 
 surrounding hills, the air, which had been still, 
 rang with bird music, bursting around them from 
 thicket, trees and glades, in heavenly trills, sweet 
 and rare. Just then, as dusk was enveloping the 
 valley, they heard the voices of their companions, 
 nearing; Soila, Anita s duenna, calling out loud 
 er than the others. When she came near, she threw 
 her arms around Anita, crying hysterically with 
 joy, as Anita and Claudio had been lost for some 
 time, and their companions had been frantically 
 calling and searching for them. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SATAN INCARNATE WORKS HIS 
 WILES" 
 
 [HE Mission San Gabriel was now a mar 
 vel of beauty and order. Large vineyards 
 had been planted, intersected with fine 
 walks, shaded by fruit trees of every descrip 
 tion, and rendered still more lovely by shrubbery. 
 The aqueduct and mill were built. Hedges of 
 rose-bushes were planted, trees were growing in 
 the mission square, with a flower garden and an 
 hour-dial in the center. Father Salvidea also re 
 modeled the existent system of government.* Every 
 article must henceforth be in place and every man 
 at his station. The people had been divided into 
 classes, according to their vocations. Large shops 
 had been created for the trades, and also large 
 spinning-rooms, where might be seen some sixty 
 women merrily turning their spindles. Then large 
 storerooms were allotted to the various articles, 
 which were kept separate. Sugar-cane, flax and 
 hemp were added to the articles being cultivated, 
 but cotton and wool were imported. 
 
 A principal head, majordomo, commanded and 
 superintended over all. Claudio Lopez was the 
 famed one during Father Salvidea s administra 
 tion ; and, although executing the priest s plans, in 
 
 31 
 
32 Claudio and Anita 
 
 the minds of the people he was the real hero. Ask 
 anyone to this day who did this, or made that, and 
 the answer on all sides is the same: "El difunto 
 Claudio And great credit was his for carrying 
 out the numerous works under his supervision 
 without flogging. 
 
 There were a great many other majordomos 
 under him for all kinds of work, from the keep 
 ers of the aquariums to the superintendency of 
 crops, vineyards and gardens. The best looking 
 youths were kept as pages ; those of most musical 
 talent were reserved for church service. The un 
 married women and girls were kept as nuns under 
 the supervision of an abbess, who slept with them 
 in a large room ; their occupations were various ; in 
 fact, they had no trade in particular. 
 
 During his pastorate, Father Salvidea mastered 
 the Indian language and reduced it to grammat 
 ical rules, being the first father in this section to 
 undertake such a task. He translated the church 
 service, and preached to the Indians each Sabbath 
 in their native tongue. 
 
 In the meantime, Don Mishel, a Frenchman of 
 polished manner and handsome bearing, had seen 
 the happy and frolicsome Anita and fell desper 
 ately in love with her. Who this man was, no one 
 pretended to know, or at least asserted with posi- 
 tiveness. It was whispered, however, that he was 
 
"A Satan Incarnate Works His Wiles" 33 
 
 one of La Perouse s company of scientificos, that 
 were exploring the Coast in the interest of the 
 French government, and who, with seven others, 
 escaped in a boat from one of the explorer s ships 
 and, on landing, were attacked by the Indians, 
 he alone escaping death. 
 
 However, there was a deep mystery about this 
 man who, wherever he went, created a sensation, 
 by his appearance and manner. His mien, in gen 
 eral, was simple, yet he was capable of deceiving 
 the most clever lawyer. 
 
 How to penetrate the family circle was a prob 
 lem he had to face ; but he would master the situa 
 tion; he would gain his heart s desire. But first 
 of all, Claudio must get out of his way, so 
 straightaway he set himself into finding some ac 
 cusation he might bring against the mission gov 
 ernment and thereby incite the people into mak 
 ing a complaint that would necessitate a courier 
 being sent to the governor. Such a duty, he knew, 
 would fall to Claudio. 
 
 Being a man of pleasing manner and address, 
 he in the most subtle way went about gaining the 
 confidence of the better families, and, to better 
 obtain his object, assumed the great prerogative of 
 defending their rights. Claiming to espouse their 
 cause, he told them the padres of San Gabriel had 
 dammed up the river, thus cutting off their supply 
 
 * Warner s History of Los Angeles County. 
 
34 Claudio and Anita 
 
 of water; that the padres refused to attend to the 
 spiritual needs of their sick, and spent too much 
 of their time, with their pleasure-loving major- 
 domo, in feasting and entertaining; also, that the 
 neophytes were made to work like beasts, and were 
 flogged most brutally. These and similar com 
 plaints were written out and signed by the major 
 ity of the people, and dispatched to the governor. 
 In due time a courier arrived at the mission, bring 
 ing with him the papers concerning these accusa 
 tions, and demanding an explanation. 
 
 Father Salvidea often went to solitary parts of 
 the mountains, partly to divert his thoughts by the 
 sublime aspect of Nature, and to strengthen him 
 self by prayer and meditation. After one of these 
 rambles, and, as he approached the mission, the 
 servant waiting at the gate gave him the packet 
 which had been sent by the governor. This he 
 opened, and was dumfounded by its contents. Al 
 most senseless, he dropped the preposterous let 
 ters, but soon recovered himself, picked them up, 
 and went to his cell to read them more calmly. 
 
 Father Salvidea, who had a masterful way of 
 going about things and was usually calm during 
 stress, immediately summoned Claudio, but on 
 this occasion Claudio could see plainly that the 
 father was worried, a circumstance very unusual 
 with him, as he related what had happened. He 
 told Claudio he realized the fact that someone was 
 
"A Satan Incarnate Works His Wiles" 35 
 
 endeavoring to make them tools for the accom 
 plishment of an ambition or device. 
 
 "No doubt, father," said Claudio, "someone is 
 jealous of our success, and would upset our glori 
 ous plans; but," he continued, "I doubt not the 
 matter can be explained satisfactorily to the gov 
 ernor," as he (Claudio) had not heard of any 
 complaints among the neophytes, nor any irregu 
 larities whatever. The neophytes were docile, 
 obedient, and worked cheerfully and well. The 
 mill would soon be ready to turn out flour, and 
 the people were happy in anticipation of its 
 completion, as it would furnish work to the idle 
 men. 
 
 "That is well, my son," said Father Salvidea. 
 "But of this trouble ! Thou canst never tell what 
 little cloud of dissention may turn into a roaring 
 tempest." Not until sometime afterwards did 
 Claudio remember the words of the father, 
 not until that little cloud became a full-fleged 
 thunderstorm. 
 
 "Peace and order have been well kept," said 
 the father, "but despite all these, trouble-makers 
 are trying to make disturbance, whatever their 
 motive. But, Claudio," he continued, "thou wilt 
 realize that there is greater seriousness at the bot 
 tom of this than mere complaint. Tis a hellish 
 plot ! The work of a satan incarnate that is work 
 ing his wiles among the people. He shall be 
 
36 Claudio and Anita 
 
 thwarted in his purpose!" and father Salvidea 
 stood up, and brought his fist down upon the 
 table. 
 
 After that he became calmer, and turning to 
 Claudio continued: "My son, thou must take this 
 matter before the governor. No one could do it 
 in a more fitting manner. It will take some weeks, 
 it is true, but with God s help the work will go 
 on well while thou art away. I will get the answer 
 to the charges ready. Start tomorrow morning. I 
 have sent a messenger to Port San Pedro. The 
 ship will be ready to take to sea by tomorrow 
 evening." 
 
 A sense of impending trouble weighed upon 
 Claudio s spirit, but he could offer no excuse; 
 besides, he must obey orders. Taking leave of 
 Father Salvidea, and, with his blessing, he left to 
 make ready for his journey. He soon made his 
 way to the Rosa de Castilla, to take leave of Senor 
 and Senora Cota and, what was uppermost in his 
 heart, to see Anita and renew their vows. 
 
 As he took leave of her parents, Anita followed 
 him out to the court garden. "Must you go, caro 
 mio?" asked Anita. 
 
 "I must," replied Claudio; "it is my duty. And 
 thy love, Anita, the sweetest, the tenderest, that 
 ever ennobled the heart of man, will put strength 
 into me for the arduous task that is before me." 
 
 Grasping both her hands in his, he pressed them 
 
"A Satan Incarnate Works His Wiles" 37 
 
 to his heart; his arms went around her, and with 
 her head leaning against his breast, he said: 
 "Anita, swear again you will be faithful to me !" 
 "I am thine, now, and forever!" she pledged, 
 as she raised her lovely eyes to his, and the radi 
 ance of her beautiful face was reflected in the 
 moon-touched crown of her golden hair, making 
 a picture that forever was engraved upon her 
 lover s heart. 
 
 Back in his apartment, Cl audio gave his atten 
 dant, Gregorio, directions for packing the gold- 
 fringed cloak, the embroidered waistcoat, the slip 
 pers, and the garters. "I must make a fitting ap 
 pearance before the governor," he mused. 
 
 The faint color of dawn was showing in the 
 eastern sky, when he was up, and ready for his 
 journey. 
 
 Claudio ordered his horse brought around, a 
 spirited chestnut bay, Retinto, that arched its 
 neck proudly when its master mounted, but would 
 permit no other living being upon its back. He 
 examined the bridle and the saddle, ordered the 
 girth tightened, and, swinging into his saddle, 
 drove Retinto into a fast speed toward the mill, 
 his attendant and groom following. At the upper 
 end of the reservoir he reined in his horse to ex 
 amine the lower banks and outlets of the dam, 
 and, seeing that everything was in perfect con 
 dition, turned towards his destination. 
 
38 Claudio and Anita 
 
 The rode through a forest of lordly oaks, along 
 the foot of the mountains, these were within the 
 lines of his grant, and passed out into the open. 
 The sun had just risen over the mountain tops, 
 deluging and dazzling the valley with its beams, 
 and reflecting its rosy light upon the little lakes 
 in the coves of the hills, which were bordered with 
 white and the blue forget-me-nots. The gentle 
 slopes over which they rode appeared as a gor 
 geous wild-flower garden, asters, yellow and 
 white, blue larkspurs, monk s hoods, lupines, white 
 and blue, alder, wild lilac (la concha del agua, 
 this the natives used to ward off fevers, a few 
 stalks thrown in the olla of drinking water making 
 it as bitter as quinine), the golden poppy and 
 white sage, all in riotous flowering. 
 
 Claudio took off his hat, and the delicious air, 
 fragrant from myriads of blossoms, played through 
 his hair. The beams of the rising sun, now sub 
 dued, fell over the valley, its tints growing softer 
 and blending more and more in the distance, until 
 they melted into a soft, blue-lilac haze. It was a 
 magic scene, one to which the pen can not do 
 justice, the mountains, towering supremely 
 grand, beneath, a glimpse of Paradise, and be 
 yond, a rolling country, mostly tulle, but lush 
 with alfilaria (pin grass), which afforded abun 
 dant feed for the heards of cattle. 
 
 The sun was yet young in the sky when the 
 
"A Satan Incarnate Works His Wiles" 39 
 
 riders passed through El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora 
 de Los Angeles. Then they came to great fields 
 of blossoming mustard, over which the shining 
 sun cast a yellow tint. Among the mustard were 
 big patches of ripe blackberries, and here the trav 
 elers stopped, to refresh themselves with the lus 
 cious fruit. Continuing, they reached the embar- 
 cadero before sundown, and Claudio, with his 
 attendant, immediately made his way to the ship, 
 the groom returning to the mission with the horses. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OUTLAWS PLY THEIR NEFARIOUS 
 VOCATION 
 
 GAIN it is sun up, and the Alba is ring 
 ing, Father Salvidea, being charged with 
 mission duties, which claim entirely his 
 becalmed energies. Again he officiates at the holy 
 altar. The mission is filled with worshippers. The 
 holy candles, yellowing in the sunlight, glow pre 
 ternatural light which, reflecting on stately walls 
 and the holy altar, reveals statues, pictures, carv 
 ings, sacred vessels, and gorgeous vestments, old 
 masterpieces from Catholic Europe. In the midst 
 of this hallowed, beautiful place, the worshipers 
 are kneeling, absorbed, heart, mind and soul, in 
 the solemn mass. 
 
40 Claudio and Anita 
 
 After mass, all breakfast. Then the vast army 
 of Indians, learning various trades, crafts and arts, 
 swarm into the workshops or foundaries. The 
 great patio is filled with hundreds of singing 
 women and girls weaving, spinning or carding 
 wool, while a large number of men and boys ride 
 away on horseback to the cattle ranches, sheep 
 ranges and wine presses, or to the grain fields, 
 gardens and orchards of the mission itself and 
 the mission ranches adjacent; a favored people, 
 well on the way to realizing the joy and the power 
 of creating all the necessities for a comfortable 
 living. By these means, the Indians were indi 
 vidually awakened, for the first time, to civilizing 
 and cultural influences. 
 
 Shortly after Claudio s departure on his mission, 
 Anita s father met with a heavy loss through the 
 defalcation of a neighbor, a foreigner for whom 
 he had gone security. Matters went from bad to 
 worse and to such an extent that he was given so 
 many days in which to give up his home. Don 
 Mishel s opportunity had come sooner than he had 
 expected. 
 
 On the eve of the family s evacuation, when all 
 were in despair, the Frenchman called to offer 
 Senor Cota his assistance, at the same time pre 
 dicting that in the natural course of events the 
 foreigners, through fraud and trick, would soon 
 come into possession of all the land. He offered 
 
Outlaws Ply their Nefarious Vocation 41 
 
 the senor his note for ten thousand dollars; he 
 (Cota), in return, to transfer to him (Mishel), his 
 lands, stock and home, as he (Mishel) would be 
 better able to cope with the situation, and prom 
 ised the senor to return the deeds when conditions 
 became more settled, and the senor could then 
 return his note. His mind laboring under the 
 strained condition of the shock, Senor Cota readily 
 accepted the offer. After this, the Frenchman s 
 wealth increased rapidly, while the senor contin 
 ued to meet with serious financial losses. 
 
 Thirty miles away, in the deep recesses of the 
 mountains, in a deep, high-walled valley, a band 
 of robbers were eating their supper around a camp- 
 fire. Their horses, all saddled, ready for a hasty 
 departure, were tied a short distance away. A 
 fearless horseman was riding towards them with 
 great speed. Breasting the dizzy cliffs over the 
 treacherous boulders, scaling precipitous ravines, 
 his horse sliding over the almost perpendicular 
 sides, he soon approached the camp. All arose and 
 hailed their chief, who at once fell into earnest 
 conversation with the captain of the band, Sepul- 
 veda, saying: 
 
 "Take the speediest horse in the band, ride like 
 the wind; burn the ranch-house of old Cota, and 
 return there by daybreak, 100 mrles in ten 
 hours!" 
 
 Sepulveda at once started on his wild ride. He 
 
42 Cl audio and Anita 
 
 plied cuarta and spur, and urged his horse on and 
 on, through canyons and mountain trails. As he 
 approached the ranch-house his horse fell dead at 
 the very threshold, but he left the house in ashes. 
 
 Walking six miles to a neighboring ranch, he 
 got a fresh horse, returned to the robbers camp 
 as ordered, and reported to his chief. Giving direc" 
 tions for the next move, the chief waved his hand 
 to his men, and rode away in another direction. 
 
 On the front porch of one of the neat ranch- 
 houses which dotted the foothills of Santa Susana, 
 sat Dona Maria, deftly working some fancy stich- 
 es on a child s woolen dress. Three persons, two 
 men and a woman, rode up. They asked if her 
 husband was at home, and were told that her 
 husband was down in the field, but would come 
 home at supper-time. They then brought out a 
 map, spread it on the table, and asked if she could 
 locate for them a certain canyon. She could plain 
 ly see by the spot marked on the map that the 
 canyon was back of the house, not far up the hill. 
 They then told her that a relative of theirs, who 
 had died in Paris, left them the map, telling them 
 that a rich treasure was buried there (pointing 
 to the mark on the map) ; that if her husband 
 would take them to the spot, and help them dig 
 the treasure, they would give him a share. They 
 were the legal heirs, they said. 
 
 Dona Maria invited them to come in and rest 
 
Outlaws Ply their Nefarious Vocation 43 
 
 until her husband came home, when they all could 
 have supper. She ordered the cook to kill two 
 chickens, which were prepared with rice, a favorite 
 Spanish dish. When her husband came, supper 
 was served. All ate hurriedly, and were soon ready 
 to go and dig up the treasure. The woman of the 
 party asked Dona Maria to accompany them, 
 but she replied that she would, after arranging 
 the china and putting her children to bed. 
 
 While busy with her china, something very 
 strange happened : she heard a great rush of wind, 
 and a voice close to her said, "Cuidado, cuidado" 
 Looking around, she saw no one, but the incident 
 was repeated three times, and each time the voice 
 was more audible. 
 
 Becoming frightened, and believing that some 
 supernatural power was warning her, her first 
 thought, mother-like, was of her children. She 
 rushed to their bed, and with the dishcloth still 
 grasped tightly in her hands, knelt by their side, 
 and in a loud voice implored Heaven to protect 
 her and her children. 
 
 While in this attitude, Dona Maria heard a 
 loud noise, as of a band of horses coming down the 
 canyon. As it drew nearer, she turned, and saw her 
 husband and the foreigners, their faces blanched 
 with terror. In gasping words they told her that 
 something terrible had happened. As their tools 
 struck a hard substance, the sound of precious 
 
44 Claudio and Anita 
 
 metal came distinctly to their ears. Strange whis 
 perings and mutterings became audible; these 
 gradually passed into groans and shrieks and other 
 diabolical sounds; but the chief place of com 
 motion was under the ground, just under the boxes 
 that contained the treasure. Then came a rush of 
 wind that swept along with terrific force, whist 
 ling and howling, bending the branches of the 
 trees above them, then rushing through the 
 grounds, raising great clouds of dust and gravel, 
 striking them on the eyes, almost blinding them. 
 At the same time they heard a rumbling sound as 
 of thunder which seemed to sink into the very 
 earth, and through the blackness of the night 
 and uproar, the sound of voices, as if coming from 
 the ground beneath their feet, pierced into their 
 ears, saying: "The penalty of death to those who 
 disturb this treasure. Beware! Beware!" In terror 
 the men dropped their tools, grabbed their coats 
 and ran toward the house at great speed, soundly 
 frightened. The foreigners left that same night 
 saying: "No treasure, however rich, would make 
 us go through that experience again. Let the devil 
 keep the treasure." 
 
 (Author s Note These gusts of wind and the 
 unearthly voices were made with an instrument 
 of the operator s own invention, he being an al 
 chemist as well as a ventriloquist.) 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 "MY WORD, IT CANNOT BE RECALLED" 
 
 | WO or three days after this, Dona Maria, 
 as usual, was sitting on the porch, sewing. 
 on Mischel rode up, and with a smirking 
 smile asked how much of the treasure her husband 
 had received from the foreigners as his share for 
 his work. She related to him what had happened. 
 
 "Well, well," he said, "those foreigners are 
 much too smart for any of us. They came back 
 during the night and carried off the treasure, and 
 beat Manuel out of his share. Go to the place and 
 see." 
 
 She went, and saw two empty boxes, such as 
 held one hundred one-pound bars of soap. On one 
 was stamped, "50-dollar gold pieces," and on the 
 other, "silver dollars." The marks on the boxes 
 showed they had been filled to the top. 
 
 When Don Mishel returned to San Gabriel, he 
 found the little town in a state of great excite 
 ment. He was told that Senor Cota had received 
 bad news; that his ranch-house had been burned 
 to the ground with all the treasures he had stored 
 therein, and that he had collapsed on hearing it, 
 for his loss was irreparable. 
 
 Don Mishel knew his chance had now come to 
 bring the matter uppermost in his mind to an 
 
 45 
 
46 Claudio and Anita 
 
 issue. So he immediately called to offer Senor 
 and Senora Cota his condolence. He found them 
 both crushed by the enormous loss of their price 
 less treasures, among them paintings from the 
 masters. 
 
 Having spied on Claudio s and Anita s move 
 ments; therefore, knowing of their love-meetings, 
 he realized he must lose no time in pressing the 
 subject next his heart. After offering both com 
 forting words, he took advantage of their situa 
 tion and asked for Anita s hand in marriage. He 
 told her parents of his wealth, and what that 
 wealth could do in giving their daughter com 
 forts. 
 
 In their hearts, Senor and Senora Cota did not 
 approve of Anita s marriage to Don Mishel; yet, 
 when they thought of her future and the priva 
 tions to which poverty would subject their adored 
 child, and also, their spirits being broken by mis 
 fortune, they gave their consent at the end of the 
 interview, and Don Mishel, his face beaming with 
 joy, retired. His heart s desire had come, even 
 sooner than he had dared to hope. 
 
 Anita was sitting on the branch of an orange 
 tree, feeding a nest of young mocking-birds and 
 looking nymph-like in her beauty when a servant 
 approached and said her parents wished to speak 
 to her. She went in, saying, "Here is your chi- 
 quita." Her father, looking gravely at her, told 
 
"My Word, It Cannot be Recalled" 47 
 
 her that both her mother and himself had promised 
 her in marriage to Don Mishel. 
 
 Anita stood, for a moment, as if stunned by a 
 heavy blow. The poor child became perfectly 
 white, and her eyes were fixed on space and as 
 rigid as those of the dead. Recovering, she flew 
 to her mother s arms, and resting her face upon 
 her breast, with heart-rending cries moaned, "Ma- 
 masita, it will break my heart!" 
 
 Tears filled both parents eyes, as they witnessed 
 the cruel agitation through which their beloved 
 child was passing, but both were obdurate, and 
 told her they had given their promise. 
 
 Anita, casting a timorous and appealing glance 
 at her father, said, "Father, undo thy promise." 
 
 In a stern voice he replied. "Anita, why this 
 scene, those tears, that rigor ?" 
 
 "Thy sentence of death, father," she answered. 
 
 "You must know, Anita," went on Senor Cota, 
 "that it is the duty of your parents, who know 
 life and have charge of your soul and happiness, 
 to steer you clear of the rocks that obstruct life s 
 pathway." 
 
 "Father," said the girl, going to him and lay 
 ing her head upon his breast, "by this, you will 
 kill me !" 
 
 But his final answer was, "Anita, I have given 
 my word ; it cannot be recalled." 
 
 With a piteous moan, the girl turned away from 
 
48 Claudio and Anita 
 
 her parents and sought Soila, her companion and 
 friend, for with her Anita was sure to find sym 
 pathy and consolation. 
 
 While this scene was progressing, Don Mishel 
 hastened away to make preparations for a great 
 fiesta, at which would be announced his approach 
 ing marriage. He invited the whole countryside. 
 
 Never had there been more lavish plans for 
 the pleasure of guests. It was a gay pageant of 
 gay colorings. Under a grove of oaks great holes 
 had been dug for the tatemas (barbecues), where 
 were roasted whole beefs and sheep, deer and 
 antelope, Don Mishel having sent hunters in all 
 directions. 
 
 Tables were made, and set under wide-spread 
 ing oaks, making a very picturesque scene. A band 
 of stringed instruments sent sweet notes through 
 the breeze. At night a dance followed, the space 
 set aside for this being covered with a ramada, 
 the ground packed as smooth as a floor, and torches 
 placed all around to furnish illumination. For 
 three days and nights the fiesta continued. Then 
 Don Mishel departed to his ranch, to get it in 
 readiness for the reception of his bride. 
 
 While Claudio was sailing on his way to the 
 governor, at Monterey, he wrote to Anita from a 
 port on the way, and the message was sent by spe 
 cial courier. It said in part: 
 
 "On Board La Calandria. 
 
"My Word, It Cannot be Recalled" 49 
 
 "Anita, my angel, I salute thee. Twenty-one 
 days since I last saw thee, beloved. What an age 
 to me it seems. We have had very little of favor 
 able winds, so have made slow progress towards 
 our destination. Here on the placid waters of the 
 Pacific, my thoughts are of thee, carisima. They 
 dwell on the happy moments we have shared to 
 gether. 
 
 "Thus, when I first met thee, and my eyes beheld 
 thy lovely face, I felt the presence of an angelic 
 creature. Thou canst never guess what thou art 
 to my life, the ambition thou has inspired, the 
 courage to accept the work that it was my duty to 
 undertake. I now go forward with all confidence, 
 to gain a palm of glory which I will lay at your 
 feet. 
 
 "For hast thou not made me acquainted with all 
 the joys of the soul, every gladness man can de 
 sire? 
 
 "Yet, there are moments of doubt that assail 
 me. What can they be? Doubt thee, Anita mia? 
 No, no, for I still hear in my soul the voice that 
 can never be false, Thine now, and forever! The 
 memory stirs in my heart, like a living thing; the 
 music of thy enchanting voice rings in my ear, and 
 the sound still is there. 
 
 "And, too, I recall joyfully the sweet tones of 
 thy voice blended with the harmonies of that quiet 
 air, the moonlit eve, the solitude around us, I 
 
50 Claudio and Anita 
 
 shall love thee in life and after death- 
 
 What a memory for life, should there at any 
 moment spring forth something, perhaps a mere 
 trifle, that can blight our dearest hopes. 
 
 "But why dwell on this anguish, for when I 
 return with triumph, after the success of my mis 
 sion, I will claim thee, carisima. Then my vision 
 will be realized. My life, my soul, farewell." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 CLAUDIO SUCCESSFUL IN HIS MISSION 
 
 [HE morning of the day on which Claudio 
 arrived at Monterey, the governor had 
 departed on some important mission and 
 would not return for several days. Claudio re 
 signed himself to the inevitable, and after refresh 
 ing himself walked seaward and watched the fish- 
 erboats beat in across the bright blue bay. 
 
 The change of the scene at first amused him; 
 then across it all would come the dream of inef 
 fable sweetness, his last moments with Anita. 
 
 Next Sunday he attended mass, and the balance 
 of the day rested. When, at supper, Claudio s 
 attendant told him it was rumored that the gov 
 ernor had returned, he bade him go and assure 
 himself, if the report be true, and quickly return 
 ing, he said the governor was pointed out to him. 
 
Claudio Successful in His Mission 51 
 
 Claudio, having obtained an audience, speedily 
 prepared, and presented himself before the gov 
 ernor. He told him of his mission, and presented 
 the letters from Father Salvidea. The governor 
 was charmed at learning that this young man of 
 courtly grace was not so long ago from the mother 
 country. He had, he mused, all that high and 
 formal breeding which runs with pure Castilian 
 blood, and by his manner showed that at one time 
 he had lived among the festivities of life. 
 
 Claudio, with the delicate tact of a diplomat, 
 begged the governor to graciously attend to the 
 matter in hand as speedily as possible, as he had 
 been greatly delayed at sea by unfavorable winds. 
 There was a kind of appeal in the request that 
 touched the governor. 
 
 "There are formalities, of course, you under 
 stand, Senor Lopez," said he; and asked Claudio 
 various questions, which were answered tactfully 
 and courteously. 
 
 "I will look further into this matter tomorrow, 
 and in a day or two will give you the answer to 
 the letters," concluded the governor. 
 
 The following day the father presidente claimed 
 the governor s attention on a matter that brooked 
 no delay. However, the governor requested that 
 he be excused for the rest of the day, "For," he 
 said, "I must be immediately in the affairs of this 
 young man, concerning which I must be better in- 
 
52 Claudio and Anita 
 
 formed. Truly he is a most admirable young 
 man." 
 
 Claudio, fevered with the desire to return, but 
 maintaining a tolerable appearance of content 
 ment, strolled about the beach. Then taking a 
 book from among some he had brought with him, 
 he climbed the bell-tower by the outer stair. There 
 he sat, with the shadow of the belfry on his books, 
 reading, and listening to the rushing of the waves. 
 Occasionally he lifted his face, that he might view 
 the landscape, and to better inhale the bracing 
 air. 
 
 He saw his servant and the governor s page com 
 ing toward him, and was informed that the gov 
 ernor had summoned him. 
 
 The governor received Claudio with a friendly 
 smile, and wished to know more of the entertain 
 ing at the mission. Claudio replied that they were 
 forced, by the very fact of their situation, into a 
 constant and abounding hospitality, and this of 
 itself inevitably brought about large departures 
 from the living originally practiced. 
 
 "Under Father Salvidea s regime, the mission is 
 considered the most splendid and opulent on the 
 coast," said he. 
 
 "And of your regime, also, Senor Lopez," smiled 
 the governor; for Father Salvidea in his letter of 
 introduction had said: "This will introduce Don 
 Claudio Lopez, a young man who hath borne him- 
 
Claudio Successful in His Mission 53 
 
 self beyond the promise of his years. He has, in 
 deed, exceeded my expectations, performing her 
 culean tasks, not only with knowledge but with 
 wisdom." 
 
 "The great army of neophytes in the mission 
 speak for themselves," said Claudio. 
 
 "I am told, "went on the governor, "that of all 
 the tribes on the Pacific Coast, the San Gabriele- 
 nos are the superiors of the others." "That may 
 be," replied Claudio; "but with almost super 
 human strength Father Salvidea attends to both 
 the spiritual and corporal wants of that vast horde. 
 Their love for him approaches to worship. More 
 than mortal, indeed, is his strength, inasmuch as 
 he has given himself, soul and body, to this lofty 
 work. The best proof of his successful labors 
 among the neophytes is that the whole mission 
 establishment is a hive of industry, with the men 
 plying trades, the women spinning, the children 
 in school, and the young men learning music ; for 
 the father well knows the soul-elevating power of 
 music and especially encourages it. After their 
 daily labors, amusements and games are indulged 
 
 in." 
 
 Then the conversation drifted to other subjects, 
 so that the interview resulted in such a pleasant 
 occasion as Claudio, in his fondest expectations, 
 had never anticipated. The governor invited him 
 to remain the rest of the week as his guest; but 
 
54 Claudio and Anita 
 
 Claudio, after thanking him heartily, assured him 
 he would be delighted to do so, but doubted not 
 that Father Salvidea was at that very moment 
 anxiously looking for him. 
 
 Next morning the governor s secretary handed 
 Claudio his letters, and he immediately set sail 
 for the mission San Gabriel. 
 
 About this time, Anita received her lover s let 
 ter; and her grief was pitiful. She pressed the 
 missive to her heart, repeating again and again 
 his passionate and endearing sentences. "Beloved, 
 yes, I love thee now, and will love thee after 
 death. It is force, it is violence, that takes me 
 from thee. I have been longing for thee, to be 
 clasped in thine arms, and now, now, I am to be 
 given into Mishel s arms. I must," but she could 
 not finish the sentence. She fell upon her knees, 
 her hands clasped, and cried, "Permit it not, Al 
 mighty God!" 
 
 Soila heard the cry, and, hastening to her, took 
 the beautiful girl in her arms, laid her, trembling 
 in every limb, upon her bed, and soothed her as 
 she would an infant until, exhausted, she fell 
 asleep. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 "MY LOVE, FOREVER WE MUST PART" 
 
 LAUDIO, in the course of time, returned, 
 and, although being tired after his long 
 ride from the embarcadero, and being late 
 into the night, he felt buoyant and happy. Taking 
 his guitar and cloak, he hurried to serenade his 
 adored one. 
 
 Finding his way to the interior court garden, 
 he stood beneath the window of the fair vision of 
 his dreams. The beauty of the moonlight night 
 added to the entrancing beauty of the scene around 
 him. A wild, bright joy filled his heart, while the 
 air, laden with the fragrant essence of the Castil- 
 ian roses that grew beneath his loved one s win 
 dow, entranced his very soul as he sang, in rich, 
 low tones this serenade: 
 
 Lt&i i ) ; J ; . 
 
 "Smiling in the eastern sky, 
 The moon in her beauty is shining. 
 Canst thou, my love, inactive be, 
 My love, are thou not waking? 
 
 Celestial seraphime, in the midst 
 Of a radiant cloud in my dreams 
 I did behold thee. Hear, beloved, 
 
 55 
 
56 Claudia and Anita 
 
 My fervent prayer, hear the voice 
 Of a heart, adoring; life of my soul. 
 Awake! Awake!" 
 
 r 
 
 As the sweet notes of the guitar and the burn 
 ing words of love floated in at her window, Anita 
 awoke. In an ecstacy of joy she exclaimed, "It is 
 he!" 
 
 But as the consciousness of all that had hap 
 pened in his absence came like a stab to her heart, 
 she called to Soila, "Soila, he must not know yet. 
 Merciful Heavens, not yet!" 
 
 Soila told her it was best for him to know it 
 then; and, as Claudio finished his song, Soila softly 
 opened the window, and in a whisper told him all. 
 
 She saw him flinch, as though from a heavy 
 blow; and he gazed at her with a strange, bewild 
 ered look, as if not believing what he heard. 
 
 After a moment of silence, however, he aroused 
 himself by a supreme effort of will, and in voice 
 calm and courteous said he wanted to hear his fate 
 from Anita s own lips, and begged Soila to arrange 
 a meeting. 
 
 After many protestations, she consented, and, 
 with that turmoil of passionate grief that made 
 him look years older, Claudio walked slowly away. 
 
 Soila told Anita of her promise; but, repenting 
 of her own weakness, of the impropriety of the 
 act, she said she would spare them both the pangs 
 
"My Love, Forever We Must Part" 57 
 
 of pain at parting; but Anita insisted on the meet 
 ing, promising to be calm. 
 
 At the appointed time, by the cove in the hill, 
 they waited for Claudio. 
 
 Anita, contrary to her promise, surrendered her 
 self to the bitterness of grief and despair, saying, 
 "Soila, it is not only for my sorrow, but for his." 
 
 "Anita," said Soila, "I could see that each word, 
 every word, I spoke, dug deep, as deep as the point 
 of a dagger, though he spoke calmly. 
 
 11 Alma mia, how can my lips speak the word 
 that will wound his noble heart?" continued the 
 girl. "Here I am, in the morning of life, crushed, 
 crushed, by this terrible sorrow. O, that I could 
 fall dead at his f eet ! Dios mio, help me ; give me 
 courage, to do my duty!" 
 
 After this outburst of grief, Anita became more 
 calm; indeed, every trace of passion had disap 
 peared, when Claudio approached. 
 
 Walking slowly towards them, with arms fold 
 ed, abruptly he said: "Anita, is the report true*?" 
 
 She gazed at him, upset by his harsh tone, and, 
 too, benumbed by the cruel grief she saw he was 
 suffering, was silent for a moment. By supreme 
 effort she gained courage, and told him the report 
 was true. 
 
 "That promise, so dear to my heart when told, 
 why not keep?" he asked her, but she could only 
 reply, "I must obey my parents." 
 
58 Claudia and Anita 
 
 Though her heart was breaking, her demeanor 
 was calm. Claudio, with impassionate words, re 
 proached her, saying, "Thou didst vow to be faith 
 ful. Ah, but that vow thy faithless heart profaned. 
 Ingrate and perjurer, how, O! how, can you look 
 on my suffering, my soul s agony, so calmly?" 
 
 "O, Claudio, don t, I beseech thee. Don t add 
 to my anguish. Tis the cruel hand of destiny, the 
 ruthless force of fate," she cried. 
 
 "So twas force, twas violence," murmured 
 Claudio. 
 
 "Anita, the ship is in the port. Come, my love, 
 fly with me, my fair one, away across the seas to 
 my castle-home, away from the arms of that trai 
 tor," he appealed. 
 
 "Claudio, perturb not my hard assent. Thou 
 knowest I, too, suffer. Yet I must obey the will 
 of my parents. Faithful my troth I will keep, 
 and in silence for thee I will weep. Adios, far a 
 siempre" and with that she held out her arms to 
 him, and, as he held her to his heart, he forgot all 
 things, save the enthralling joy of the moment. 
 
 Sobs shook the girl from head to foot. With a 
 swift impulse Claudio loosed his arms and held 
 her away. 
 
 "Anita," he said, "behold me in my great de 
 spair. Mercy for thyself, I pray thee have. Mer 
 cy, in Heaven s name, I pray thee show me, Anita, 
 for thee my heart is breaking!" 
 
"My Love, Forever We Must Part" 59 
 
 Tears were streaming down Anita s face, and 
 her lips moved, but she could not speak. Claudio 
 could see, plainer than if written in words, the 
 grief of her heart, yet she was a strange example 
 of the courage, the firmness, the power of sacrifice. 
 Suddenly a tremor came over her as of sudden 
 fear. Both heard a rustle in the bushes. 
 
 "Claudio, my love, forever we must part!" 
 and with a last, soulful embrace, they parted, 
 Claudio walking away as if in a dream. 
 
 The rustle in the shrubbery was no other than 
 the ever-spying Don Mishel who, as he saw Anita 
 in Claudio s arms, made a fierce dash towards 
 them, blind with rage. His first impulse was to 
 plunge a dagger into his rival s heart. He made a 
 movement as if to fling himself upon him, but in a 
 flash his quick reasoning came to his rescue, and 
 he realized, that by any violence on his part he 
 would lose Anita, whom he had come to love more 
 and more, until that love was the master passion 
 of his life. 
 
 With a gesture of intense fury he stepped back 
 noiselessly and went to a recess where he had left 
 his horse. Still burning with inward rage, he 
 mounted, and brutally burying the spurs deep into 
 his horse s flanks, rode like mad, up and down the 
 hills, not minding where. Murder was in his heart; 
 but he struggled hard to suppress the passion. 
 
 Suddenly rising in his stirrups, he checked his 
 
60 Claudio and Anita 
 
 horse, and bringing his clenched fist down upon the 
 pommel of the saddle, muttered, "A duel ! A duel ! 
 I ll get him with my best art," and with his hand 
 still clenched, he made a movement as if he held 
 the weapon that would wound his rival to death. 
 
 Becoming calmer after this outburst, Don 
 Mishel rode iesurely towards the Rosa de Cas- 
 tilla. He saw Anita, and asked her to come to the 
 court garden with him, thinking, "I will hold my 
 peace." But as his eyes met hers, the fires of jeal 
 ousy overmastered him. 
 
 Telling her what he had witnessed, he inquired, 
 "How answer you for yourself? I will get him 
 for this ! I will kill him in a duel !" he shouted. 
 "Thou hast doomed this man !" 
 
 He fell into a stupid silence; but her plaintive 
 voice, her sobs of fear, her pleadings for Claudio s 
 life, roused him, as if he was freed from a heavy 
 load upon his heart and brain; and with a harsh 
 laugh, his visage darkened with a hideous sneer, he 
 said, "Thou asketh me mercy for my rival 4 ? Thy 
 pleading infuriates me more. I repeat, I shall slay 
 him, the traitor !" 
 
 His fiendish aspect frightened Anita, who, dizzy 
 with terror, staggered into the house, found Soila, 
 and in the midst of her sobs told of Don Mishel s 
 threats. 
 
 Soila clenched her hands and exclaimed, "Dios 
 miol I am in some fault for this, although against 
 
"My Love, Forever We Must Part" 61 
 
 my will I consented to that meeting. This," she 
 said, "is my punnishment for consenting to it, 
 when my conscience told me it was wrong." 
 
 "You who know the noble greatness of his mind 
 must know how bitter are these tears that I shed. 
 My love, my sacred love, that I should be doomed 
 to destroy thee; I, who love thee more than life 
 itself," sobbed Anita, as she was seized with a 
 deadly shivering. 
 
 Soila put her to bed, telling her to be brave and 
 help her devise some plan whereby they could save 
 Claudio. 
 
 Quite suddenly there came an inspiration : 
 "Father Salvidea," said Soila, "he will save him." 
 
 "Soila, hasten you to him," pleaded Anita, "I 
 have no power to move." 
 
 Soila met Father Salvidea as he was coming in 
 from his rounds among the neophytes. Rushing 
 towards him, she told the object of her visit, and 
 confessed the part she had played in consenting to 
 the meeting of the lovers. 
 
 The father told her to leave it all to him, and to 
 tell no one about the trouble. 
 
 Soila returned and found Anita quiet, but with 
 an expectant and pathetic stare. For a moment 
 the duenna was silent. 
 
 Anita cried, "Soila, why stand in this strange 
 stare^ What heard you*? I would fain know 
 what you have to say." 
 
62 Claudio and Anita 
 
 "Nothing but good," answered Soila. "Father 
 Salvidea bids you be passive, and says that he 
 knows all, but to tell no one of this incident." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 SNATCHED FROM THE JAWS OF DEATH 
 
 ON MISHEL, that same evening, sent 
 his second, bearing a challenge, to Clau 
 dio. 
 
 "Say to Don Mishel I will attend him on the 
 edge of the forest, by the hillside, at sunrise to 
 morrow. I will have swords," said he. 
 
 Claudio immediately sent a message to his cous 
 in, Cuso de Medino, saying he wished to see him 
 without delay; to him he related the particulars 
 in detail. 
 
 Knowing Claudio s antagonist as a large and 
 powerfully-built man, Cuso had his fears as to the 
 result, so, unbeknown to Claudio, found his way 
 to the house where Don Mishel had his dwelling. 
 
 He was received with that courtesy common 
 among men of the world, and for some little time 
 the two interchanged commonplace subjects. 
 
 Suddenly Don Mishel, guessing the object of 
 Cuso s visit, turned on him fiercely and said: 
 "Come! Enough of this babble. Let us have 
 frankness. What is your mission here 5 ?" 
 
Snatched from the Jaws of Death 63 
 
 "I am on a mission of peace," said Cuso. 
 
 Mishel looked at him with unwinking eyes, 
 grinned, and, showing his teeth between his slight 
 ly parted lips, replied, "I have no quarrel with 
 you." 
 
 "You are a bit hot-headed, I take it," went on 
 Cuso, "but all I ask is fair speech. Can you deny 
 this 4 ?" 
 
 "Not if you talk straight," said Don Mishel, 
 "so come to the point." 
 
 "Although I expect little will come from it, I 
 will say that you have an unfair advantage in this 
 duel with my cousin," said Cuso. 
 
 "Enough !" Don Mishel said sternly, as he stood 
 up, his long arm with its bursting muscles show 
 ing against his sleeve, and outstretched towards 
 the door. "Keep strictly to your code of rules, 
 and I shall keep to mine." 
 
 There was a reckless audacity about the man 
 which Cuso could not fail to observe; and he saw 
 that to discuss the subject further was useless; 
 moreover, it was his duty to depart, and comuni- 
 cate with Don Mishel s second.- 
 
 Involuntarily, Cuso took a step backward, star 
 ing into the man s face. That he was a renegade 
 of some sort, he did not doubt, yet it never occur 
 red to him that he could be connected with that 
 band of suspicious characters which he had en- 
 
64 Claudio and Anita 
 
 countered in his prospecting trips in the moun 
 tains. They were daring and bold riders, always 
 pretending to be looking after stock, but seeming 
 ly busy at something else. 
 
 Once he had come upon them in an inaccessible, 
 high-walled valley; from a mountain peak he 
 could look at them; but as the night closed in 
 darkness he could not perceive their movements. 
 This accomplished scoundrel, surmised Cuso, was 
 the one who had incited the people to make accu 
 sations against the saintly Father Salvidea. There 
 flashed across his mind stories he had heard of 
 robberies and atrocities committed, and of a 
 mighty bandit-chief who had built his house on a 
 mountainside at the foot of a deep canyon, where 
 he kept a cache with secret tunnels that opened 
 into this inaccessible canyon. This chief, a hu 
 man monster with a will uncontrolled by fear, 
 had the faculty of bringing honest men to a base 
 submission to his will, and of compelling all men 
 who came in his employ to take an oath of secrecy, 
 threatening death to any who broke it. "Is this 
 the man," queried Cuso to himself, "this dastard 
 ly-eyed scoundrel who grinned into my face, evi 
 dently amused at my undisguised expression of 
 anxiety over the fate of my noble cousin ? I would 
 go back and kill him as I would a venomous rep 
 tile, were I sure. Yes, kill him, and rid the world 
 of the devil before more innocent people could 
 
Snatched from the Jaws> of Death 65 
 
 suffer through his crimes. Yet, murderous rene 
 gade and beast though he may be, I could not kill 
 him in cold blood. I will leave him to a higher 
 power, to be dealt with as he deserves." 
 
 Sunrise, at the time and place appointed, the 
 duelists and their seconds appeared, Claudio with 
 stern, immobile countenance, Don Mishel with a 
 leer. Cuso could not but make known his fear for 
 the fate of his cousin. "Hast any word to say, 
 cousin?" he inquired. "Thy assailant is skilled, 
 and a devil in his wrath." "If my rival s sword 
 should triumph," replied Claudio, "tell her I 
 blessed her with my dying breath. To my mother, 
 dear, say her son fell on the field of honor." "By 
 Heaven ! I admire his self-command !" mused Cu 
 so, "and I in fear and distrust. But yet, a daunt 
 less spirit I must show, and so speak to Don Mish- 
 el s second." 
 
 Cuso approached the second, who said, "Let us 
 walk toward Don Mishel; we must make peace 
 with them if we can." It was Monsieur La Croix 
 who spoke. "Is there no way but this, Don Mish 
 el?" he asked. "No satisfaction can be done but 
 by the pangs of death to one or the other," re 
 plied Don Mishel fiercely. "I suffered the in 
 sult." Cuso turned towards Claudio and said, 
 "He will not be pacified. His soul can only be 
 appeased with slaughter." "You mistake me, 
 cousin," replied Claudio. "I did not bid thee 
 
66 Claudio and Anita 
 
 plead for peace. Thinkest thou I would give up 
 my honor to save my poor clay 4 ?" 
 
 A strangely opposed pair, they appeared as they 
 approached the arena. Mishel, dark, of unusual 
 stature, with prodigious muscular development 
 about the arms and chest, and with every appear 
 ance of activity and strength ; Claudio, a model of 
 comeliness and grace. An unequal fight, it seemed 
 to Cuso, but Monsieur La Croix saw something in 
 Claudio s steady grey eye and firm step which left 
 the result open to doubt. 
 
 To this forbidding figure Claudio walked, fol 
 lowed by his cousin, Cuso. 
 
 All being in readiness, the seconds paced the 
 distance, examined the keen bright blades, and 
 handed them to the rivals. 
 
 "One, two, three ! Engage !" The duel began. 
 
 Mishel s strokes were well aimed, but Claudio s 
 warded them with swift and certain skill. 
 
 Now was the time for the purer living and agile 
 limb to show its value. Claudio s arm sped over 
 and under Mishel s sword with a swiftness bewil 
 dering to the eye, so swift that the eye could not 
 follow the quick play of his blade. 
 
 Mishel fought desperately. On and on came 
 his sword points; now at his foeman s face; now 
 at his throat; now at his chest. 
 
 Claudio parried and dodged them. He knew 
 well that such efforts could not long be sustained ; 
 
Snatched from the Jaws of Death 67 
 
 for it was clearly to be seen that Mishel was los 
 ing strength, as he was panting heavily from fruit 
 less efforts ; yet he continued parrying and thrust 
 ing in desperation. 
 
 To Claudio s endurance there seemed to be no 
 limit, no abatement, no weakening to the spirit in 
 his steady gray eye. He continued to guard, wait 
 ing for his opportunity that he might hit effect 
 ively when it presented itself. 
 
 Finally he saw his chance had come and raised 
 his sword to strike so that he might bring it down 
 with a swinging blow, when suddenly the tall, 
 stately form of Father Salvidea appeared between 
 them, as if springing from the very ground. 
 
 Turning to Claudio, he said, "Claudio, Claudio, 
 do not stain your hands with blood !" Don Mishel 
 stood, as if rooted to the spot. His immobility 
 but cloaked an internal struggle, however, for sud 
 denly he made a dash towards his antagonist. 
 Father Salvidea raised his hand with a gesture of 
 command, his eye fixed on Don Mishel s face. Don 
 Mishel looked at him stupidly, but checked him 
 self in his wild rush, and slowly the frenzied pas 
 sion died, leaving him shaking like a leaf. 
 
 "Yes, Don Mishel," said Father Salvidea, "I 
 snatched thee out of the jaws of death. Claudio s 
 athletic training hath made him quick in action, 
 and he hath in him skill, youth, and strength, that 
 supplied him advantage over you. I will advise 
 
68 Claudio and Anita 
 
 you both to shake hands." Don Mishel moved a 
 pace, then another, with outstretched hand, to 
 ward Claudio. 
 
 But Claudio folded his arms across his breast 
 and said, raising his eyes towards Father Salvidea, 
 "In all reverence to you, I, like the Douglas, will 
 say, this hand is Claudio s alone ." Father Salvi 
 dea then spoke with the imperious accent of the 
 master who is accustomed to command, and told 
 them to keep the matter secret, and peace here 
 after. All parties agreed, and, sheathing their 
 bloodless swords, departed. Yet they knew not 
 that another duel had been fought between a saint 
 and a devil, and that Father Salvidea, with his 
 spiritual powers, had undone the devil. 
 
 Don Mishel, pacing in his apartment like a 
 caged lion, in a rage at his shattered plan to de 
 stroy his rival, was racking his brain for a means 
 to do away with Claudio. He planned one thing, 
 then another, but none suited him. He could not 
 think clearly, since the morning experience, and 
 could not understand why. He knew of some 
 recipes which caused death as if by natural ill 
 ness. He would have Agapito Sepulveda attach 
 himself to the mission service and have him do the 
 work. Yet, that would take too long, and, too, 
 there was that friar to contend with. Suddenly 
 he stopped; he had adopted a plan, which will be 
 known later. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 YOU HAVE THE WRONG MAN !" 
 
 N the afternoon of that eventful day Don 
 Cuso called on his cousin and found him at 
 his work; but making ready to start on his 
 rounds of inspection of the works which were un 
 der construction at the mission. Cuso compliment 
 ed his cousin on his calmness after the strenuous 
 morning. 
 
 A smile flitted over Claudio s face as he said, 
 "I suppose I ought to be excited over it all; but 
 the fact is, you have just one big moment of ex 
 citement when the tragic time comes," (a smile 
 came over Cuso s face as he remembered the dra 
 matic turn the near tragedy had taken) "after 
 that reaction, then calmness. That is the element 
 I am experiencing at the present moment. So you 
 see, I have not been swept away by excitement. 
 But I must be going." 
 
 Cuso remembered the look on Don Mishel s 
 face as he turned back and glared at his cousin; 
 there was treachery in that fiendish, ugly look, he 
 thought. He must be secretly on his guard for 
 the safety of his cousin. 
 
 Endeavoring to dissuade Claudio from making 
 his usual rounds that day, he said, "It being so 
 
 69 
 
70 Claudio and Anita 
 
 late, them canst not make the rounds before dark." 
 
 "O," said Claudio, "I will master the situa 
 tion." He felt his cousin wanted to spare him, 
 thinking he must be tired out. 
 
 "I was convinced of that this morning," smiled 
 Cuso; "nevertheless, allow me to go in your place 
 now." 
 
 "Bien si es tu gusto. If it is your pleasure, cous 
 in, go. Do you know that in trouble it is worth 
 while living to feel the real thing: a disinterested 
 and faithful friendship?" said Claudio. 
 
 The rays of the setting sun touched the gorge 
 ous woods with a bright glow and the day waned 
 away, as Cuso rode slowly on, watching the west 
 ern gleam until it vanished. Not a human being 
 came within his vision, only the dense woods in 
 myriads of tints of green, bronze and red, the 
 western sky so clear, and the stars sparkling in 
 the swift twilight which links day and night. He 
 had gone the rounds of inspection and was leis 
 urely riding on, carelessly wandering into less 
 familiar regions, but with no prospect of becom 
 ing lost; for he had explored nearly every portion 
 of the valley up to the mountains above. 
 
 He turned back and hurried on, as it was grow 
 ing darker; though he knew well what course to 
 take to bring him back speedily to the mission. 
 Presently, however, he became conscious of other 
 people in the wood besides himself; he saw no 
 
"Tou Have the Wrong Man" 71 
 
 one, but he heard the breaking of twigs and the 
 stir of leaves, which told him of human presence. 
 He had a sense of being surrounded. There was 
 no doubt of it now, for he heard a whispering 
 sound. Then a half-score of men seemed to rise 
 from the ground around and out of the bushes. 
 He had only time to realize they were bandits, 
 when he heard the whirr of a lariata that was 
 thrown around his body and he was felled to the 
 ground. Unconscious, he was carried away. 
 
 Regaining his senses, Cuso felt a splash of wa 
 ter on his face, and a flask was put to his lips. 
 He realized he had been kidnapped, and that the 
 hand behind the business was Don Mishel s. But 
 what did they want with him ? It was clear some 
 deep-laid plot lay behind all this. 
 
 He was roused from his musings by the harsh 
 voice of the bandit, Sepulveda, saying, "Come 
 this way, senor," and so saying the bandit turned 
 aside the dense brush, plowing ever deeper, until 
 they came to a place where great rocks and boul 
 ders jutted up around the green. Before them rose 
 a steep cliff, on whose jagged walls grew, here and 
 there, vines and brush. At the foot of this cliff 
 grew a tree, stunted, but with spreading green 
 branches, up which the bandit climbed a few feet 
 from the ground, when he vanished into the face 
 of the cliff. 
 
 But in a moment the branches were parted and 
 
72 Claudio and Anita 
 
 the bandit looked down and beckoned Cuso to fol 
 low. Climbing the tree, he seized hard hold upon 
 a vine and found himself, upon his knees, within 
 a small cave. There the bandit, taking hold of 
 his hand, led him to the end of the cavern, where 
 there was a winding passage which brought them 
 to a second, and larger cave. 
 
 The bandit whistled, and, in a while, a glow 
 appeared, then a man bearing a torch which 
 showed a wide cave, whose rough walls glistened 
 here and there, and whose rocky floor ended ab 
 ruptly in a yawning gulf, from whose depths came 
 murmurs, and ripplings of water. 
 
 Halting on the opposite side of the chasm, the 
 man lifted his torch and, stooping, took up a 
 plank, which he thrust across the gulf. Cuso cross 
 ed the plank, the torch-bearer going ahead, lead 
 ing the way, and the bandit walking behind, along 
 a low-roofed passageway, until they came to a 
 cavern where a fire was burning, the red light 
 from which played upon the polished blades and 
 arms that hung against the wall. In a corner, a 
 man lay snoring. The bandit shook him roughly, 
 to awaken him, and ordered him to make some 
 coffee. 
 
 Cuso sat down beside the fire and rested his 
 head upon his hands. The coffee being ready, 
 the bandit poured out a cup for himself and an 
 other for Cuso, into which he put some drops, a 
 
"Tou Have the Wrong Man" 73 
 
 decoction that, while making one half stupid, 
 gives him a sense of restful contentment. After 
 drinking the coffee, the bandit brought a stone 
 tablet, upon which were some figures and a skull, 
 saying it was the law, that whoever fell into their 
 hands to swear secrecy to whatever took place 
 or was seen thereabouts by placing his hand on 
 the skull and putting some mark or signing his 
 name, in his life blood, which was gotten by pierc 
 ing the wrist. In case of refusal, death, and a 
 burial in the yawning abyss over which they had 
 passed, was inflicted. 
 
 Cuso did not want to sign and swear on the tab 
 let; but, seeing nothing but certain death before 
 him, did so; besides, while he would be compelled 
 to keep his oath, he could watch over his cousin; 
 for should he fall into the hands of this murder 
 ous band the life and light would go out of San 
 Gabriel. 
 
 After taking the oath, Cuso threw himself on a 
 bed of leaves which had been prepared and pres 
 ently was sound asleep. While he slept, the chief 
 of the band unexpectedly made his appearance, 
 went directly to where he was reposing, looked 
 into his face, and with an oath turned to his cap 
 tain and said, "Es el Cuso I You have the wrong 
 
 man!" 
 
 Don Mishel, for the chief was indeed he, flew 
 into a towering rage. "I wanted that man. Thou 
 
74 Claudio and Anita 
 
 knowest who," he said; and then followed a tor 
 rent of oaths and blasphemies so terrific that even 
 the toughened Sepulveda s blood ran cold. 
 
 "You ordered the capture of the man who 
 would be riding about the mission works," he said. 
 
 "Yes, yes," Mishel muttered, "I scorned to 
 speak his name." 
 
 After holding a consultation with Sepulveda, 
 the chief said Cuso was too dangerous a man to 
 be turned loose, so they would have to do away 
 with him. Bardo, the cook, poured out their cof 
 fee, after drinking which they laid themselves 
 down to sleep. 
 
 Bardo, going to where Cuso was asleep, shook 
 him gently, saying, "Sefior, sefior, awake !" 
 
 "Que hay?" said Cuso, raising his head. 
 
 "I decocted yerba aniz in their coffee," said Bar- 
 do, "that I might set you free. I heard they plan 
 ned to murder you. They are fast locked in sleep 
 now." 
 
 "And why should you save my life?" asked 
 Cuso. 
 
 "On a certain day, within these mountains, you 
 found me sorely wounded and near death with 
 thirst," answered Bardo. "You carried me in your 
 arms up the steep mountain, you cared for me, 
 taking me to your mountain cabin, where you are 
 wont to rest on your prospecting tours. Now fol- 
 
"Ton Rave the Wrong Man" 75 
 
 low me, senor," and so saying he took a lantern 
 and began to descend. 
 
 Cuso followed down a narrow stair and along a 
 passage which ended abruptly against a small 
 door, whose rusted iron was banded with mighty 
 clamps. Here Bardo paused to fit the key in the 
 lock, and he strained and panted before the door 
 yielded and opened. Looking up at Cuso he said, 
 "Senor, there lieth thy way to life and the world. 
 As thou didst save my life, so do I give thee 
 thine." 
 
 Thus Cuso stepped out into the cool air of 
 dawn. For awhile he stood staring at the sky, 
 where yet a few stars shone, and drank in mighty 
 breaths of the fresh air while he got his bearings. 
 Then, following a bridle path, he came into the 
 
 valley below. 
 
 * t 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 FATE RESCUES ANITA FROM DON 
 MISHEL 
 
 [NITA S wedding-day approached. Don 
 Mishel came to the Rose de Castillo,, bring 
 ing costly gifts for his fiancee, and to 
 the Senor and Senora Cota he presented the deeds 
 to their lands, in his happiness and enthusiasm. 
 The marriage was to take place the next day, at 
 mass. 
 
76 Claudia and Anita 
 
 Returning to his ranch, he gave a party to his 
 friends who, in fact, were members of his band, 
 and to his best man, M. La Croix. Dancing and 
 drinking were freely indulged in until the small 
 hours of the morning, so, when he arose after a 
 rest, scarcely over the effects of the night s hilar 
 ity, he required the assistance of his best man to 
 dress for the wedding. 
 
 Claudio, knowing that next morning Anita s 
 marriage was to take place, would not be near; so 
 went to the hillside to pray for strength and self- 
 mastery. The thought that Anita, whom he loved 
 more than life itself and who loved him, was to 
 become the wife of another man, was rending his 
 heart in twain. Every nerve was strained as on a 
 rack, and the thought that she did not love this 
 man, but was giving herself as a sacrifice to her 
 parents, increased his torture. Almost delirious 
 in his grief, at times his poetic spirit would give 
 vent to these lines : 
 
 "Beloved land where I was born, 
 
 Forced from thee, to this I came. 
 
 I protest tis force that brought me, 
 
 Or twas fortune willed should be my dower. 
 
 Flowers that met me, flourishing gay 
 With thy beauty, sparkling, filled my eyes; 
 Why are thorns thy gifts today? 
 I did but touch the sweetness of romance, 
 
Fate Rescues Anita from Don Mishel 77 
 
 And now must lose her, 
 
 But to have known her, to have loved her, 
 
 Is worth this pain, I hold that dear!" 
 
 "O, if I could say a prayer," he cried, "that 
 would reach the hearing of God. The Holy Book 
 says prayer out of a poor man s mouth reacheth 
 the ears of God and His judgment comes speed 
 ily ." 
 
 With a sudden wave of emotion he arose, and 
 with countenance raised Heavenward and arms 
 extended in the appealing attitude of a struggling 
 soul, he cried aloud : "Father Almighty, save her 
 from that awful fate, and I vow my life to thy 
 service. Hear, Heaven, and bear witness to my 
 vow." 
 
 And, as if the great turmoil of pain and 
 grief that pierced his very soul had been 
 checked by an all-suffering goodness and 
 clemency, as he stood, with his eyes raised to the 
 great expanse above, a soothing sense of peace 
 swept over his soul, and he fell into a peaceful 
 slumber. 
 
 Meanwhile, at the call of the Alva, the house 
 hold at the Rosa de Castillo, was stirred for their 
 duties in anticipation of a great fiesta. Soila, go 
 ing to Anita s chamber, found her still in bed. 
 She was urged to rise, as the first chimes were 
 ringing, and the hour of her marriage was fast ap 
 proaching. 
 
78 Claudio and Anita 
 
 Anita pleaded to be left a while longer, as 
 one would for a stay of sentence being led to his 
 doom, but finally arose and, with the assistance 
 of Soila, dressed, looking, in her bridal robes, like 
 some ethereal being. She was in readiness for the 
 bridegroom. 
 
 While the preparations for the wedding were 
 going on at the house, Don Mishel, with M. La 
 Croix and a driver, stepped into a coach. Don 
 Mishel, feeling stupid and drowsy and thinking 
 the fresh air would revive him, took a seat beside 
 the driver, and was half asleep when the coach 
 suddenly struck a boulder; being unable to keep 
 his hold, he fell out, and the wheels of the heavy 
 coach passed over his chest, crushing it in. 
 
 Quickly, M. La Croix jumped out, pulled the 
 unconscious form from under the coach, and felt 
 the pulse ; there was yet a feeble fluttering. 
 
 Suddenly Don MishePs big frame shook con 
 vulsively, and his head moved slightly. 
 
 "Don Mishel," said his friend, "you are dying. 
 Do you want to say anything? Do you want the 
 priest?" 
 
 "Yes, I know I am dying," he replied. He lay 
 still for a moment, then continued : 
 
 "Father Salvidea! Father," his voice almost a 
 whisper, but singularly clear, "I confess I have 
 been a bad man. I wanted money, money, and to 
 obtain that, I robbed the widow and orphan and 
 
Fate Rescues Anita from Don Mishel 79 
 
 left them destitute. I caused Senor Cota s ranch 
 house to be burned, destroying his priceless treas 
 ures; I sent my captain, Sepulveda, to do the 
 work; I did that, in order to break the senor s 
 spirit, and to obtain the promise of his beautiful 
 daughter s hand. I robbed the legal heirs of their 
 buried riches of gold and silver, using my arts to 
 frighten them away; they left the field clear to 
 me, just as they had reached their treasure, and I 
 afterward buried it in another place. I cheated 
 the widow of her home and all she possessed, and 
 left her destitute with her three little children. I 
 have been a living lie, most of my life. Now, I 
 am meeting the fate of all transgressors." 
 
 His chest heaving with exhaustion, suddenly he 
 cried, deliriously : "Speed up, Pepo ! Speed up ! 
 We will be late !" 
 
 When he spoke again, he seemed entirely con 
 scious, and as he opened his eyes and fastened 
 them on his friend, he said, "Anita! Anita! Take 
 me there quickly. I want to look upon her lovely 
 face once more." The weakening voice and the 
 agonized appeal made the scene pitiful. 
 
 M. La Croix s face was pale with emotion; for 
 the confession of the dying man was a revelation 
 to him. With moistened eyes he nodded to the 
 coachman, and the two lifted Don Mishel into 
 the coach and speedily drove to the Rosa de Cas- 
 tilla, where all the household was in confusion. 
 
80 Claudio and Anita 
 
 The groom was behind the hour. They were 
 wondering what had happened, when, in looking 
 towards the road, they saw the coach, coming at 
 full speed. It was driven into the courtyard, 
 where two men alighted and were soon carrying 
 the dying Don Mishel towards the house. 
 
 On passing the threshold, Don Mishel turned 
 towards the assembled company; on his face was 
 pictured the despair of the damned; muttering 
 curses and imprecations, he breathed his last. 
 
 Thus passed away a triple life,- a bandit chief, 
 a thief, and a murderer. 
 
 In the midst of all this confusion a horseman 
 was seen approaching the house on a foaming 
 steed. A few rods from the door, the horse fell 
 dead; but the rider, after whirling in the air, 
 alighted safely on his feet upon the ground. See 
 ing his horse was dead, he ran to the house with 
 all speed, and asked to see the Senor and Senora 
 Cota. 
 
 He told them he rode hard that night, risking 
 his life, so that he might get there in time to save 
 their beloved daughter from being married to a 
 bandit chief and murderer. For years he had 
 served the senor, and seen the lovely child grow 
 in her innocence and beauty. 
 
 "He has been judged by a higher power. Don 
 Mishel is dead," they said. 
 
Fate Rescues Anita from Don Mishel 81 
 
 While these scenes were rapidly passing, Anita, 
 in an uncontrollable impulse, had rushed up the 
 mountainside, followed by Soila. She knew not 
 why, but with the inspiration of a soul set free 
 of its fetters, her spirit gave vent to song, and she 
 sang in a sweet, low tone : 
 
 "Where may I find thee, heart s beloved, 
 
 Beneath what skies ? 
 In vain I seek thee everywhere, 
 
 With tear-dim d eyes. 
 To glen, to mount, to tide, 
 
 My grief is known, 
 As each replies : not here shalt thou 
 
 Behold thine own." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 "FATHER, I AM RESIGNED" 
 
 LAUDIO, slumbering, was partly awak 
 ened by a voice. "What is that I heard," 
 he said, half awake. The faint, sweet 
 voice, as from far away, again reached his ears, 
 and rising, he looked around, but saw no one. "Are 
 my senses deceiving me 4 ?" he asked of himself, as 
 he started to follow the sound. 
 
 "It is hers!" he exclaimed, but remembering 
 his vow, he said, "Cease, sweet accents, cease to 
 
82 Claudio and Anita 
 
 sing. Though that voice greatly charmed before, 
 now it is changed to a harmful blast." 
 
 But he continued to follow the sound, and came 
 upon a scene that held him spellbound. In a cove 
 of the wood-crowned hill was Anita, as in the 
 vision of his dream, and he exclaimed, "My dream ! 
 My dream !" 
 
 As she saw him, Anita stepped lightly towards 
 him with arms outstretched, and he rushed to 
 meet her embrace, for the moment forgetting all, 
 but stopped abruptly and said: "My vow. I can 
 not, I must not." He had prayed never to see her 
 again, and now, here she stood before him unless 
 she was the vision of his dream. 
 
 "Claudio!" she cried, and the sweetness of her 
 voice, the tenderness of her tone, moved him. 
 
 "Anita!" he answered, "how came you here*?" 
 
 She moved her lips, but words came not, and 
 she looked at him in mute appeal. Briefly he told 
 her of his vow. 
 
 "Why, O why, was it given at such a price," 
 she said, covering her face with her beautiful 
 hands. 
 
 Claudio glanced inquiringly at Solia, who re 
 lated to him, in a few words, all that had trans 
 pired. "Father, I thank Thee, Thou has heard 
 my prayer," said Claudio reverently. 
 
 And, as Anita heard those words, she stepped 
 up to him, and taking both his hands in hers, said, 
 
"Father, I am Resigned" 83 
 
 "My beloved, hold sacred thy vow ; for it is writ 
 ten that they who break such vows incur their own 
 damnation. Heaven help us both!" 
 
 Gently kissing her hand, he turned away. 
 
 Soila and Anita hastened home and Senora Cota 
 came out to meet them. In the excitement, Anita 
 had been forgotten ; but now they were frantically 
 looking for her. As she saw her mother, she rushed 
 to her arms, and with a cry fell senseless at her 
 feet. Soila tenderdly raised her in her arms and 
 carried her into the house, where, after a time 
 which seemed an age to her parents she revived as 
 from a heavy stupor, but delirious and with a high 
 fever. 
 
 Her life for a long time was despaired of; but 
 youth and vitality were in her favor, and, after 
 days of suspense, she rallied. She wanted Claudio ; 
 but at first had not the courage to ask for him. 
 Finally she was told that he had not been to her 
 house, but had sent a page every day to ask after 
 her health. 
 
 His cousin, too, came every day to render his 
 assistance, until Soila s marriage to him, for, when 
 he saw Anita out of danger he would brook no 
 delay. "I ll take no chances of losing her. I ll 
 have her now," he said. 
 
 Chona was chosen from among some young 
 women to wait on Anita, and no one ever held a 
 position with greater pride than did she. She was 
 
84 Claudio and Anita 
 
 most devoted, and was delighted to wait upon 
 and fuss around her charge continually. 
 
 Claudio plunged deep into his mission work. 
 Still when his duties permitted, he turned toward 
 the hillside. He loved to ramble in the scene 
 which had been so much to him, both his heaven 
 and his Gethsemane. There he would often linger 
 alone wrapt in a melancholy charm till the last 
 gleam of day faded from the west. There among 
 the scenes of nature the wildwood walks that 
 skirted the mountains, the coves and recesses, the 
 silence and grandeur of solitude impressed a sacred 
 awe upon his heart and lifted his thoughts above 
 worldy sorrows and cares to the God of heaven 
 and earth. Moreover, in that beautiful and hal 
 lowed spot, in the stillness and dignity of the 
 place he found comfort from his affliction and 
 soulful rest. He had learned to love this country 
 and his work in the mission, where he had achieved 
 an unparalled success in the construction of build 
 ing and in teaching the neophites. Both these lines 
 of activity interested and fascinated him; but in 
 spite of this strong tie which held him, he made 
 the decision to leave the mission forever. 
 
 He would go away and fight this mad love which 
 at times caused him to waver in his resolution to 
 keep his vow, so solemnly made to God, when the 
 horror of marriage to Mishel was dark upon her 
 whom his whole soul loved with an adoring fervor. 
 
"Father, I am Resigned" 85 
 
 At these times of wavering, he would fight as men 
 fight against the flames which are destroying their 
 home, finding that in spite of all the water they 
 can pour upon the blaze the flames will spring up 
 again in the old places and in the new. Yet un 
 aware his thoughts would wander to his lost love, 
 and awakened in his mind the poetic spirit which 
 made his heart lament and sing. 
 
 "Go, breezes, whisper to the Fairest in this land, 
 When next her steps shall hallow these wood 
 land walks and ways, 
 
 Of one who once gazed fondly on her gentle, radi 
 ant smile, 
 
 But whose heart, now desolated, for her pres 
 ence vainly prays. 
 
 If I could paint upon this rock her soul-illum 
 ined eyes, 
 The wonders of her rhythmic form, her magic 
 
 pensive face, 
 It would bring the whole world hitherward with 
 
 eagerness to see 
 
 A beauty which surpasses every human charm 
 and grace. 
 
 O holy picture in my heart ! a light of glory there 
 To safely guide my wayward feet wherever 
 they may roam, 
 
86 Claudio and Anita 
 
 E en to the world s great end or beyond the far 
 thest star, 
 
 To look upon you anywhere were country, 
 friends and home. 
 
 But he must go, go away and never see her 
 again, go away without one spoken word of fare 
 well between them. 
 
 Since early childhood Claudio had been taught 
 the doctrines, practices and fervors of religion, and 
 so all that was strongest and noblest within him 
 had responded with a simple faith and depth of 
 ardent devotion which made his religion the most 
 vital part of his being, the most hallowed motive 
 of his life. 
 
 This it was which had given him a noble forti 
 tude in his sorrow. This it was which at times 
 gave him that noble exhaltation in which his firm 
 belief that his vow had saved Anita from a fate 
 worse than death became a rapture of gratitude to 
 God. Through his anguish and deep travail for 
 her horrid condition, compelled to an unwilling 
 marriage to a wicked man, he believed that God 
 had heard his prayers, accepted his vow and set 
 the beloved of his heart free from the grip of 
 hellish evil. 
 
 Finally he made his decision : resolving to leave 
 the mission, forever. He would go away and fight 
 against that mad love which at times caused him 
 
"Father, I am Resigned" 87 
 
 to waver in his resolution to keep his vow. At 
 those times he would fight as men fight against 
 the flames which spring up afresh. He would go 
 without a word of farewell. He must never see 
 her again. 
 
 Anita, too, was struggling against her love, but 
 ill succeeding. She would say to Chona, "Why, O 
 why, does he not come? I am weary waiting. I 
 wish that I were dead." 
 
 There was so much depair in her voice that 
 Chona could hardly bear to hear her, besides, she 
 could see that the unsatisfied longing of her heart 
 was consuming her. 
 
 Becoming alarmed, Chona went to see Father 
 Salvidea, told him of Anita s condition, and be- 
 seeched him to come and talk to her, which the 
 kindly father was pleased to do. 
 
 Coming into Anita s presence, he said, "My 
 poor child, thy condition grieves me." 
 
 "Father," said Anita, "you doubtless know, in 
 asmuch as you know all things. Have you not 
 discovered the cause of my sufferings?" 
 
 Father Salvidea looked at her with something 
 like reproach in his gaze. She continued, "I should 
 have gone to you in the confessional, but unhap 
 pily my heart has hardened itself; I have neither 
 the courage nor the desire to speak to the confes 
 sor, but only to the friend." 
 
 "What are you saying about hardness of heart," 
 
88 Claudio and Anita 
 
 said the father, "them who art so good. Come, 
 calm thyself, and speak with moderation, Anita." 
 
 "How can I avoid talking foolishly, when the 
 spirit of evil possesses me." 
 
 "Holy Virgin, don t talk nonsense, child. This 
 is dreadful. But the real trouble with you is, you 
 have been ill, you are delirious." 
 
 "Would to God it were so." 
 
 "How is this, child? What notion has entered 
 your mind?" 
 
 Anita rose from her seat, drew near the reverend 
 father, and, with signs of deepest distress, in a 
 trembling voice said: "Claudio has not been near 
 me since that memorable day. He loves me, and 
 I love him. I love him," she repeated, in higher 
 accents. 
 
 "Claudio told me all," said Father Salvidea. 
 "His love is without hope now, a love not to be 
 thought of. Calm thyself. The mercy of God is 
 infinite." 
 
 "Father, you well know much of what has hap 
 pened. What did he say? Tell me all all. I 
 adore him," Anita continued, "and he loves me, 
 too, although he strives to conquer his love, and in 
 the end he might succeed in doing so. You, father, 
 are very much to blame. With the goodness of 
 your heart you did nothing but praise Claudio to 
 me." Then conscious of her injustice, she said, 
 "Forgive me father, see how perverse I am. I 
 
"Father, I am Resigned" 89 
 
 want to throw the responsibility on the best and 
 the holiest of men. Even though you had not 
 spoken to me of the good qualities of Claudio, I 
 should have discovered them all, the grace of his 
 person, the elegance of his manner, his eyes full of 
 fire and intelligence. Your praises charmed me, 
 because they were an echo of my own thoughts. 
 This inextinguishable fire is consuming me." 
 
 "Alas, my child," said the father, "it grieves me 
 to hear you speak so." Anita covered her face 
 with her hands, and began to weep. Anita s tears 
 flowed. Father Salvidea suffered her to weep with 
 out interruption, and watched her with a look of 
 benignity which might have characterized the 
 countenance of a guardian angel. 
 
 When she became tranquil he spoke again, with 
 his eyes raised to heaven as in prayer, and digni 
 fied by the pious solemnity of the saint, he said: 
 "Claudio leaves the day after tomorrow. He is 
 going to fulfill his vow." 
 
 "Fullfill his vow," said Anita, "and give me 
 my death wound? It shall not be! By Heaven, 
 it shall not be !" She had risen and her attitude, 
 her gesture, had something of tragic animation. 
 
 Father Salvidea regarded her almost with ter 
 ror. She seemed more like an angry lioness than 
 a timid gazelle. She sank into a chair, weeping 
 more bitterly than ever, abandoning herself to 
 
90 Claudio and Anita 
 
 greater anguish. The father s heart was touched 
 with pity. 
 
 "Anita, child," he said, "be reasonable. Con 
 sole yourself with the thought that it was not with 
 out a hard struggle he was able to control himself. 
 He loves you with his whole heart, but God and 
 duty come first. Remember how deep must be the 
 wound you made in his heart, the anguish he suf 
 fered. Let this suffice you; be generous; be cour 
 ageous; be his rival in firmness. Let him depart, 
 and guard his image in your memory, but as the 
 creature, reserving for the Creator the noblest part 
 of your soul. Control thyself for the sake of our 
 Lord and His Blessed Mother. Let Claudio go. 
 When he is far away, thou wilt recover thy ser 
 enity by degrees, and will preserve in thy memory 
 only a grateful recollection of him. As he prayed 
 in the mountain for thy deliverance, forgetting 
 himself in his agony, he made that vow to Heaven. 
 He then denied to himself the pleasures and pas 
 sions of this world, and rose victorious over him 
 self. The remembrance of him will be like a beau 
 tiful poem, whose music will harmonize with 
 your existence." 
 
 "Father," Anita answered, "thy holy words 
 lend me courage. I will conquer myself. I will, 
 I will cast this love from me." 
 
 "Very well, my child; it is thus I want to see 
 you, courageous and resigned." 
 
"Father, I am Resigned" 91 
 
 "Oh, father, I am resigned; for however great 
 the effort I might make, I could never succeed in 
 elevating myself to him. There is no science he 
 does not understand, no region of the intellectual 
 world, however exalted, to which he may not soar, 
 while I am incapable of following him, even in my 
 hopes or aspirations." 
 
 "Anita, don t say such things, or think them. 
 He is going away because he must fulfill his vow." 
 
 Anita noted the convulsion which passed over 
 the father s face as he said, "Can you realize what 
 loss the mission will suffer through his leaving 4 ? 
 How I shall miss him !" 
 
 Anita, who had left off crying, said quietly, 
 "Father, I am resigned. You shall see how peace 
 and serenity will spring up in my heart, when 
 Claudio is gone." 
 
 "God grant it," said the father, taking his 
 leave. ^ * * 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "I CANNOT CURE YOUR MISTRESS 
 MALADY." 
 
 [NITA had risen as the reverend father was 
 taking his leave. After closing the door, 
 she stood for a moment in the middle of 
 the room, her gaze fixed upon space. Then she 
 broke into tears again, and threw herself on the 
 floor, her face buried in her hands. 
 
92 Claudio and Anita 
 
 Chona had heard her sobs from without, and 
 hurried to her. When she saw her mistress on the 
 floor, she gave way to a thousand expressions of 
 fury. "Here is a pretty sight," she cried. "What 
 a way to console her!" 
 
 Chona now carefully lifted Anita in her arms 
 and placed her on the sofa. "What is the meaning 
 of all this?" she asked. "I wager that Father Sal- 
 videa has been preaching you a sermon as bitter 
 as gall, and has left you with your heart torn to 
 pieces with grief. Come, leave off crying, and tell 
 me what is the matter. What did he say to you*?" 
 
 "He said nothing that could offend me," Anita 
 finally answered. "The father has advised me to 
 forget him; but look you, Chona, I cannot; it is 
 beyond my strength. While Father Salvidea was 
 here, I thought I had strength for everything; but 
 no sooner was he gone than I lost my courage and 
 fell, crushed, to the floor. The arguments of 
 Father Salvidea are full of wisdom, and just; but 
 I love Claudio, and this argument is more power 
 ful than all others put together. God forgive me 
 for what I am about to say; but I feel it in the 
 depth of my heart: for him, I would give even 
 the salvation of my soul !" 
 
 "Madre Santisima!" exclaimed Chona. 
 
 "It is true, may our Blessed Lady of Sorrow 
 forgive me. I am mad, I blaspheme," cried Anita. 
 
 "Yes, child, Heaven help us ; but, if I were you, 
 
"I Cannot Cure Tour Mistress Malady" 93 
 
 I would not take Heaven to task. I would have it 
 out with him," muttered Chona. "I should like to 
 bring him here, and make him beg your pardon 
 and kiss your feet." 
 
 "No, Chona; I see my madness is contagious, 
 and that you are raving, too. There is nothing for 
 me to do, but forget him, and I will, even if it 
 costs me my life. If I die, he will cherish my mem 
 ory and my love in his heart." 
 
 "Dios EternoT exclaimed Chona, "do you want 
 me to take out my handkerchief, and bellow like 
 a calf? Anita, don t talk about dying, even in jest. 
 You are nervous, and very much excited. Can t 
 I bring you a cup of azahar (orange blossom tea) 
 to quiet your nerves ?" 
 
 "No, thank you. Leave me now. You see how 
 calm I am." 
 
 Cl audio had for a long time been seated before 
 his desk in deep thought, when he suddenly heard 
 a noise close by. He raised his eyes, and saw stand 
 ing before him the meddlesome Chona, who had 
 entered like a shadow, and was watching him at 
 tentively, with a mixture of pity and anger. Chona 
 had come to have a very serious conference with 
 Claudio ; but she did not quite know what to say ; 
 nevertheless, she asked Heaven to loosen her 
 tongue, and bestow upon her the gift of speech, 
 not such grotesque and vulgar speech as she gen- 
 
94 Claudio and Anita 
 
 erally used; but correct and adaptable to the noble 
 reflections and beautiful things she had in her 
 mind, and wanted to express. 
 
 When Claudio saw Chona, he frowned, and 
 showed by his manner how much this visit dis 
 pleased him, at the same time saying, severely: 
 "What do you want here?" 
 
 "I have come to call you to account about my 
 young mistress," answered Chona, quietly, "and 
 I shall not go away until you have answered me." 
 She then drew a chair near the table, and sat fac 
 ing Claudio with coolness and effrontery. 
 
 Seeing there was no help for it, he restrained 
 his anger, and in accents less harsh than before, 
 said, "Say what you have to say." 
 
 "I have to say," returned Chona, "that you 
 have treated my mistress wickedly; you have be 
 witched her. The poor angel is going to die. She 
 neither sleeps nor eats, nor has a moment s peace, 
 on account of you. Today she has done nothing 
 but weep. She wouldn t even take a cup of azahar 
 I wanted to give her, to quiet her nerves." 
 
 "Chona," returned Claudio, "leave me. Cease 
 to torture me. Dost thou imagine the sacrifice I 
 have already made is not a tremendous one? Anita 
 should arm herself with fortitude, and make a 
 similar one." 
 
 "You sacrifice voluntarily on the altar of this 
 girl," replied Chona. 
 
"I Cannot Cure Tour Mistress Malady" 95 
 
 Claudio, confounded, did not know what an 
 swer to return to these arguments of Chona; be 
 sides, it was repugnant to him to discuss the meta 
 physics of love with a servant. 
 
 "Let us leave aside these idle discussions. I can 
 not cure the malady of your mistress. What would 
 thou have me do?" asked Claudio. 
 
 "I will tell you what I would have you do," 
 replied Chona, more gently and with insinuating 
 accents. "If you cannot cure the malady of my mis 
 tress, you should at least alleviate it a little. Don t 
 run away without saying good-bye. Come to see 
 my mistress, who is sick. Do this work of mercy." 
 
 "What would be gained by such a visit? It 
 would aggravate her malady, instead of curing it," 
 said Claudio. "Chona, it will not do. You do 
 not see the matter in its proper light." 
 
 "You will go and see her," pleaded Chona, and 
 put some resignation into her soul, and if you tell 
 her, in addition to this, that you love her and that 
 it is only for the sake of God and to fulfill your 
 vow that you are leaving her, her woman s vanity, 
 at least, will not be wounded." 
 
 Claudio answered : "What you propose is dan 
 gerous for her and for me." 
 
 Chona replied: "And why should it be danger- 
 out? God can see the rectitude of your intentions. 
 Will He not grant you grace and His favor, that 
 you may not yield to temptation? If she should 
 
96 Claudio and Anita 
 
 die of grief, at seeing herself scorned, I tell you 
 your remorse would be harder to bear than the 
 flames of pitch and sulphur that surround the 
 cauldrons of Lucifer!" 
 
 "This is horrible. I will go to see her." 
 
 "May Heaven bless you, but my heart told me 
 you would go." 
 
 "When do you wish me to go*?" 
 
 "Tonight, at ten o clock, precisely. I will be at 
 the front door waiting for you, and will take you 
 to her." 
 
 "Does she know you have been to see me?" 
 
 "She does not. It was all my own idea, but I 
 will prepare her cautiously, so that the surprise 
 and joy of your visit may not be too much for 
 her." 
 
 "I will go. Good-bye." 
 
 "At ten o clock, precisely. I will wait for you 
 at the door." Saying which Chona hurried away, 
 rejoicing at her diplomacy. She had gained her 
 point. 
 
 Claudio was so beside himself under the influ 
 ence of contradictory emotions which disputed the 
 possession of his soul that, starting to his feet, he 
 paced the floor like some wild animal. He need 
 ed nothing less than the immeasurable vaults of 
 Heaven above, to elevate his thoughts. Impelled 
 by this necessity, he took his hat, and, avoiding 
 
"I Cannot Cure Tour Mistress Malady" 97 
 
 everyone he knew, started towards the hill, his 
 favorite resort. 
 
 He came to that hallowed spot where he had 
 suffered such agony of soul, coupled with that 
 ravishing moment of sweetness and bliss, when 
 he had held his beloved for one moment in his 
 arms. For a moment, the thought held him enthral 
 led, as he pictured to himself the loveliness of the 
 one he had so adored. Had his vain heart wor 
 shiped her above his Creator? If so, his punish 
 ment was just. But all those memories were harm 
 ful, and he prayed that all should hasten past. 
 
 Then, in the disturbance of his conscience, a 
 sacred voice spoke: "Courage! forward with your 
 
 cross !" 
 
 Turning back, he found himself in the midst 
 of most enchanting surroundnigs. All this majes 
 tic beauty was his now; yet, all the earth, in this 
 beautiful and tranquil night, seemed given up to 
 melancholy reflections. 
 
 Engrossed in these meditations, he delayed his 
 return, and was some distance from the Rose de 
 C as till a when ten, the hour appointed for his in 
 terview with Anita, came. A feeling of intense 
 physical pain attacked his heart; still he hastened, 
 and presently found himself at the ranch. His 
 heart began to beat with violence and he stopped 
 a moment to recover his serenity. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 "I DESERVE DEATH, I DESIRE IT!" 
 
 LAUDIO entered the hall. Chona was 
 awaiting him. She seized him by the arm 
 and she continued to go forward, drag 
 ging him by the arm after her. Claudio, who from 
 a child had been accustomed to the respect and 
 consideration of the servants, dependants and 
 others around him in his parents home, who grati 
 fied his every wish, and who had never been op 
 posed in anything, but, on the contrary, humored 
 and flattered, felt indignant, surprised and chag 
 rined at Chona s insolent manner. Nevertheless, 
 he controlled himself and remained silent. 
 
 Meanwhile, they crossed the courtyard, passed 
 through the corridor, and arrived at last at the 
 door of the library, opening which and announc 
 ing him, "Here is Don Claudio, who has come to 
 say adios" Chona discreetly withdrew. 
 
 She had told Anita that Claudio was coming 
 to take his leave and Anita was weeping, but 
 quickly dried her tears, began to make herself 
 ready to receive him. 
 
 The interview began in the most grave and cere 
 monious manner. Both found it difficult to express 
 themselves, but there was nothing else to do but 
 make the effort. 
 98 
 
"I Deserve Death, I Deserve It!" 99 
 
 Anita began : "I had already given up hope that 
 you would come." 
 
 "Father Salvidea and I came ; we were told that 
 you were ill, and I have sent every day since to 
 inquire for you. I was greatly pleased to learn 
 you were improving. I hope that you are better." 
 
 "I am much better, thank you." 
 
 "My adieus now must be perhaps final." 
 
 Anita s habit of concealing her feelings, which 
 served as a restraint to the paroxysms of grief 
 and passion, had no power with her now. Thus, 
 on this occasion, she would speak with frankness. 
 Still, with a palpitaing heart that swept aside 
 all thought of maidenly reserve, and spurred on 
 by the exigency of the hour, she exclaimed : "Clau- 
 dio!" 
 
 But breathless, she stopped. What was she go 
 ing to say to him? She paused for a moment, and 
 forced herself to be calm. 
 
 "Claudio," she repeated, "I am going to make 
 a supreme effort to speak to you frankly. Those 
 terrible agonies I have experienced, and the seri 
 ous reasoning I have forced myself to make dur 
 ing my illness, have changed me. I am no longer 
 like the timid gazelle. I have been encompassed 
 by the pangs of death. Can you not see that you 
 in going to the fulfillment of your vow will offer 
 a bloodless sacrifice, and will pitilessly sacrifice 
 her who most loves you 4 ?" 
 
100 Claudio and Anita 
 
 "I, too, Anita," returned Claudio, endeavoring 
 to conquer his emotions, "have suffered. But since 
 God in His mercy heard my soul-rending prayer 
 for your deliverance, I have sought to die to my 
 self; to free, not only my senses, but even my soul 
 itself from earthly affection, in order to fulfill that 
 most sacred and solemn vow. Now you upbraid 
 me. In doing so, you forget yourself. O, Anita, 
 forgive me ! I loved you before I saw you. In a 
 vision of my dream there arose in my soul the 
 faithful image of the living beauty, which is the 
 essence of that soul which is above all the dreams 
 of my imagination, and the reality such as I be 
 held in you, enthroned itself. Long before I saw 
 you, I was conscious of loving you. I loved you. 
 There may be something mysterious, something 
 supernatural in this." 
 
 "I, too, believe that I loved you before I saw 
 you. I had a presentiment, when they told me you 
 had arrived at the mission. If love is as you say, 
 I have died to myself, and live only in you and 
 for you. I have prayed to the Virgin Mary to blot 
 your image from my soul, and my prayer has been 
 in vain. Your love must be protected by vigorous 
 and lofty thoughts, a love that I am neither wor 
 thy of, nor capable of sharing, nor even able to 
 understand. 
 
 "Anita, it is not that your love is less than mine, 
 but that it is free from obligation, and mine is not. 
 
"/ Deserve Death, I Deserve It!" 101 
 
 The love you have inspired is profound, but my 
 obligations, my vows, contend against it." 
 
 "I deserve death, I desire it! My father pro 
 nounced the sentence on me, in his violent desire 
 that I should do his bidding. He traded me, as it 
 were. My rule of conduct, then, was to obey my 
 parents blindly. Now I wish to die. And my 
 spirit, set free, will follow you, invisible, by your 
 side/ 
 
 Swiftly the picture came back to his mind, of 
 the child-like face uplifted to his, as she said: 
 "Claudio, in this life and after death my love will 
 still abide." His eyes softened as the scene came 
 before him. 
 
 "But in this life, it cannot be," continued Anita, 
 "I love thee not only in the soul, but thy very sha 
 dow, thy name, and all that goes to make thee such 
 as thou art, Cl audio Lopez. I repeat, that thou 
 kill me, kill me, without compassion." 
 
 "Anita, don t," Claudio said, his upturned face 
 eloquent with appeal. "You forget that you, on 
 that eventful day, charged me to keep my vow ; for 
 the consequence of breaking such a vow would be 
 fatal to my soul, and now thou wouldst have me 
 break it." 
 
 "Yes, yes. But I am a Christian no longer. I 
 am a material idolator." 
 
 Here she made a long pause, tears bathing her 
 cheeks. Becoming calmer and drying her eyes, she 
 
102 Claudio and Anita 
 
 looked at him and saw the expression of strength 
 and self-reliance, raised and dignified by supreme 
 self-mastery. 
 
 "By this just contempt, thou wilt kill me," she 
 cried, "more surely than with a dagger." And with 
 a stifled cry she turned away. 
 
 Startled by the passionate words "thou wilt 
 kill me", he looked at her and saw before him a 
 miracle of transformation, from the child-like face 
 to the face of a woman, radiant, with eyes full of 
 fire. The noble hauteur of her pale brow, the dig 
 nity of her bearing, her grace, and charm, wrung 
 admiration from his heart and stirred the very 
 depths of his soul. His heart yearned for her; all, 
 all was forgotten; for his love, the strongest of 
 human elements, dominated and swept all before 
 him; yet he could not break his vow, nothing but 
 unhappiness and disaster would be their lot under 
 the shadow of a broken vow. 
 
 Who could comprehend Claudio s hard tempta 
 tion? Who could blame him if he fell? But with 
 an immense effort, his will mastering his desire, 
 he murmured, "Anita, farewell, forever!" and 
 took her hand, touching it with his lips. 
 
 "Stay, I plead thee, Claudio, and finish the 
 work thou hast begun. I vow I ll not cross thy 
 path," said Anita, as she left him. 
 
 Everything was still at the Rosa de Castilla, 
 
"7 Deserve Death, I Deserve It!" 103 
 
 save the murmur of the fountain in the garden, 
 and the faint echo of music and song in the serv 
 ants quarters in celebration of El Dia de San 
 Juan, as Claudio stepped out into the courtyard 
 and made his way to where Chona was waiting 
 
 to let him out. 
 
 It ft 1C 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "TO THE MEMORY OF THEE, SANTA 
 ANITA." 
 
 O Anita, alone in her room when the last 
 notes in the servants quarters had died 
 away and she had dismissed Chona, de 
 spair and oppression returned redoubled. Finally, 
 exhausted, she fell into a restless sleep. 
 
 Next morning she awoke heavy-hearted. A 
 strange presentment possessed her, and the dark 
 ened walls and ceiling and floor seemed fairly to 
 close in upon, to hedge in, soul and brain. It 
 was the first time the girl had felt the need, the 
 driving desire, to be alone, out of doors, where 
 there was nothing but sky and space to bind her 
 thoughts. 
 
 At last, when her restlessness became unbearable 
 and whilst the remainder of the household were 
 still asleep, she arose, dressed hurriedly, and went 
 out to order a not-too-wide-awake page to saddle 
 
104 Claudio and Anita 
 
 her horse. She rode hard, at first, but shortly, 
 pulling up her horse to a walk, turned toward the 
 hills. 
 
 Anita s presence upon that hill that morning 
 was unpremeditated. Even though she turned 
 her mount into that mountain bridle path, the 
 choice had been made without actual thought of 
 the road which she was selecting, and yet uncon 
 sciously the choice had brought her to the place 
 for which both brain and spirit were ahunger, to 
 the scenes which held such poignant memories; 
 the cove in the hillside where, under that great 
 projecting rock, he had found her, the vision of his 
 dream, on that memorable morning. She stopped 
 her horse. An impulse came to her, a swift and 
 blind desire to climb to the summit of that rock, 
 and she finally succeeded in doing so after much 
 effort. 
 
 As she stood on the summit, everything else for 
 the moment forgotten, she tried to recall the gen 
 tleness of his hands when he was fastening her 
 cloak beneath her chin as the evening dews were 
 making the air chill on the day of the picnic, when 
 they were waiting for the rest of the party who 
 had strayed away and he was begging her to let 
 him take her home before it became too dark. 
 Again, she felt his arms around her, as they were 
 saying their last adieus, as they both thought, and 
 hundreds of other sweet and tender memories pass- 
 
"<fo the Memory of Thee, Santa Anita" 105 
 
 ed before her. And when the later morning found 
 her still standing there, surveying the beauty of 
 the scene below, peace and silence, within her 
 bosom a fierce storm raged. 
 
 "Hope deserts me; dark seems the future," she 
 mused. "Farewell, dear love ! Since thou wilt 
 need be gone, mine eyes do show me my life is 
 almost done." 
 
 Chona had taken a cup of chocolate to her mis 
 tress room, as usual, but found she had risen, and 
 was much alarmed, for she had never before known 
 Anita to leave the house alone. Chona had her 
 horse saddled, and hurried away. As she came 
 well within sight of the rocky point, she saw Anita 
 standing on the very edge of the rock. 
 
 "Anita!" she cried, in alarm. The girl gave a 
 step backwards, raised her arms, and fell over the 
 ragged edge onto the boulders below. 
 
 At the sight, Chona became paralyzed with ter 
 ror, but recovering herself, rushed to the spot and 
 found her mistress unconscious. Finding herself 
 helpless to aid her, she hurried back to the house 
 and gave the alarm. 
 
 Anita s father, who was just about to leave, was 
 the first to learn of the terrible accident. He 
 rushed with all speed to the spot, and with a groan 
 that shook his tall frame, bent over his child and 
 moaned her name: "Anita, Anita, nina mia, mi 
 
106 Claudia and Anita 
 
 vida, speak to thy father," and kissed her brow 
 over and over again. He lifted her tenderly in his 
 arms, courteously declining all offers of assistance 
 from friends and neighbors, who had hurried to 
 the scene on learning of the accident. His hag 
 gard and set look told, plainer than words, the 
 awful agony he was suffering. Yet, he was pos 
 sessed of that calmness which comes to brave men 
 in supreme moments. 
 
 Some of the neighbors, nevertheless, hastened 
 to summon Father Salvidea, others to acquaint 
 Claudio with the sad news. Claudio immediately 
 hastened to the house, arriving just as Anita s 
 father came, bearing his precious burden, sense 
 less, in his arms. 
 
 Claudio turned back, as he felt a dizziness over 
 come him, remaining on the veranda. Presently 
 Father Salvidea came out. 
 
 "Father, father, is she dead?" he cried. 
 
 "No, not dead," said Father Salvidea, "thank 
 God." Then he looked about him, as if he had 
 suddenly wakened from a deep sleep. "Will you 
 let me know how, how," but Claudio could not 
 proceed. 
 
 "You shall know soon," Father Salvidea said. 
 "But you must go in the house and lie down," he 
 continued, as he noted Claudio s pale and drawn 
 features. 
 
CiC fo the Memory of tfkee, Santa Anita" 107 
 
 "I will obey you, father," said Claudio, as he 
 staggered in and fell into a seat. 
 
 He did not know how long he had remained 
 there, when he heard his name called, and was 
 told that Anita wished to see him. 
 
 With an effort, he recovered his composure, and 
 was soon at her bedside, crying, "My beautiful 
 Anita, my life, my love, if it were only me !" 
 
 "No, Claudio," said she. "The mission, the 
 country, need you. Promise me, Claudio mio, 
 thou wilt stay and finish the work thou has per 
 formed so worthily." 
 
 Her voice was low, yet clear and sweet, as she 
 continued: "Always a worthy son of thy noble 
 sire, thou must be." 
 
 "I promise," he said, and stooping over, he took 
 her little hands in his own, pressing them to his 
 heart with mingled tenderness and reverence, and 
 kissed them again and again. 
 
 "If I have performed my duty worthily, thou 
 wast my inspiration, beloved," he said. 
 
 Anita was enraptured by Claudio s restoration 
 to her. "The Lord in His mercy has granted me 
 this delight," she said; "for He has brought thee 
 to my side again like thy dear old self. Claudio 
 mio, do you remember when, on one of our happy 
 rambles over the hills, we said our love was im 
 mortal*? Beloved, my love, after death, will live 
 on, forever." 
 
108 Claudio and Anita 
 
 Claudio glanced into Anita s eyes, and she 
 smiled sweetly and said: "I know I am going. I 
 am ready to go. My soul is at peace with my 
 Creator. Father Salvidea has given me his bless 
 ing. And you have made it joyous, with your 
 love." 
 
 Anita s strength was rapidly departing, and the 
 death she craved was near at hand, but she con 
 tinued : "I complain not of my fate. Heaven has 
 willed it so." 
 
 Claudio bent down and reverently kissed the 
 girl s brow. On her face a great beauty shone, as 
 her glorious spirit ascended Heavenward amidst a 
 luminous silvery cloud. 
 
 Anita s father and mother knelt by her bedside, 
 the mother with ashen-pale lips, and the father 
 with majestic form, shrunken by his heavy sorrow. 
 Chona was frantic. 
 
 Claudio stood and gazed for a moment on his 
 beloved s fair brow, and then turned to Father 
 Salvidea, in agonized tones crying: "Father, 
 father, I want to follow her spirit beyond! Is 
 there a way, father 4 ?" 
 
 "No, Claudio," replied the good father, "God 
 has work for you to do. You have been called to 
 labor in your Master s vineyard, my son, and 
 when God calls you to His fold, you will join her 
 pure spirit above." 
 
 A great sigh escaped Claudio s lips, as Father 
 
iic fo the Memory of tfkee, Santa Anita" 109 
 
 Salvidea was speaking, and a rush of scalding 
 tears blinded his eyes. With a great sob of agon)-, 
 his head fell forward into his folded arms. 
 
 Father Salvidea walked towards him, and gen 
 tly laying his hands on his head said : "Never dk! 
 a purer soul ascend to its Creator. My son, dedi 
 cate that beautiful domain, the reward of ) r our 
 labor, as a monument to her memory." 
 
 Inspired by the reverend father s words, Clau- 
 dio arose, and said: "Would that I could raise to 
 her a monument of gold. This domain, the boun 
 tiful gift of my gracious king of Spain. I dedicate 
 to the memory of thee, Santa Anita." 
 
BOOK II. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 THESE AND OTHER PAGES 
 
 [HE following and other pages of his diary 
 were found in one of the rooms of Don 
 Claudio s Santa Anita ranch house after 
 his death. There were many others, but these were 
 selected, because they pertain to the story, at the 
 time of the secularization of the Missions : 
 
 "April the fourth Now my thoughts have long 
 been wandering from my diary before me to this 
 gloom and desolation. Is this the end of our 
 hopes, this the end of long years of arduous labor 
 and sacrifices? What will be the end of all this 6 ? 
 The palsying thought, indeed, takes possession of 
 my soul ; I tremble at the approach of every horse 
 man, fearing news of fresh depredations ; the very 
 air seems noxious with debauchery and crime. 
 
 "April the eighth The faithful neophites who 
 remain send appealing messages to me for help. 
 It pierces me to the soul ; for alas ! I deplore my 
 inability to subdue this wild whirlpool of crimes ; 
 yet I must act with the noble and reverend Father 
 de Salvidea, with courage, pity and love. 
 
 "California, the treasured child of Spain, nour- 
 
 113 
 
114 Claudio and Anita 
 
 ished by goodness, wisdom, truth, and all that is 
 divine; and to whom many of her pious subjects 
 gave so generously of their gold to help in the 
 work of civilization ; and to me sacred with mem 
 ories of the past, is taken possession of by Mexico, 
 whose rulers are despoiling and debauching her 
 to their greed. 
 
 "April twenty-eighth Father de Salvidea en 
 deavors to rouse me from the gloom into which I 
 have fallen. He tells me that as a knight of the 
 cross I must not waste the rest of my life in selfish 
 brooding. With God s help I will do his bidding. 
 
 "Father Almighty, I pray Thee, help me to lift 
 my thoughts above worldly cares and passions; 
 give me strength to bear my sorrows !" 
 
 "May the first I often see Father de Salvidea s 
 cowled figure, stately and dignified, pacing the 
 veranda in the courtyard of the mission, praying 
 that God may subdue his proud spirit, that he 
 might humbly submit to the rule of the Sacatecas 
 Friars, who were sent from Mexico as his superi 
 ors. His superiors/ ah! what mockery! His poor 
 heart, too, is racked with pain at the continuance 
 of things which he has not the power to alter; yet, 
 I often have seen him by the side of a dying neo- 
 phite who was stricken in the turmoil, adminis 
 tering the last sacraments with the same mild and 
 loving look; yet he looked in agony on those who 
 
fhese and Other Pages 115 
 
 stood near by those painful scenes, as if warning 
 them of a like fate. 
 
 "May the third The face of revelry is torpid 
 in the shadow of the night. Who knows what 
 the morrow will bring. Nothing but heart-rending 
 scenes. I must away, where at least I can find 
 peace; there is nothing for me here, nothing! 
 And yet, am I so distracted, so lacking courage, 
 that I would flee from the scenes of pain and hor 
 ror. Still, this inaction I cannot endure; it is un 
 bearable. I will wait yet a little longer. 
 
 "May the fifth Father Salvidea tells me it is 
 best to store the art treasures that are in the salons 
 and the guest rooms, These were sent to him by 
 friends and relations (people of great wealth) for 
 the purpose of cheering him in this wild and far 
 away land. 
 
 "May the sixth Today I have, with my own 
 hands, stored away Father de Salvidea s art treas 
 ures, treasures which would delight a nation; 
 carefully each painting was laid away, some of* 
 the paintings by old masters. My eyes lingered 
 long on the Gobelin Tapestry which alone would 
 grace a King s gallery. The solid silver service, 
 presented to him by his king, his manuscripts, 
 which will be his noblest monuments, volumes 
 of rare works, statuary, etc., I put away; and some 
 of my own trinkets, manuscripts and valuable doc 
 uments, I stored together with his. After the work 
 
116 Claudio and Anita 
 
 of storing is finished I will move to my Santa An 
 ita ranch, and there await results. 
 
 "May the tenth In vain I try to sleep. All 
 that has happened in the past years come rushing 
 into my fevered brain. I will dress me and walk 
 in the open air; I will find peace in the calm of the 
 wooded hills. 
 
 "Never was a night so still; never a sky so 
 deeply blue. A star of rare brilliancy comes twin 
 kling over the tree tops; how beautiful, how 
 grand! My spirit is filled with the grandeur of 
 the scene around me; the exceeding loveliness and 
 beauty of it all. To me it is fragrant with the 
 memory of the brightest hours of my life. Yet I 
 must leave thee, Paradise; thus leave thee, dear 
 land, happy walks and shadows. Anita, beloved, 
 it is vain to ask thee, for I know thou canst not 
 hear; yet my prayer will be heard and will carry 
 my message to thee. I pray in my longing for a 
 sign. 
 
 "The leaves of the oak, at hand, stirred and 
 fluttered in a gentle breeze. In the meantime a 
 voice was heard by me, so softly, in a whisper 
 Go! It is your destiny! Is this thy spirit, my 
 angel*? The answer, so sure, so clear, Yes , I am 
 convinced; all my doubts are swept away, abso 
 lute peace possesses my soul; so that it strength 
 ens me. A strange quietness steals over me; so, 
 with my spirit strengthened I will once more to 
 
These and Other Pages 117 
 
 my bed and repose. Tomorrow or is it today? 
 I will speak to Father de Salvidea of my resolve. 
 "May the twentieth Today I consulted with 
 Father de Salvidea in reference to my wish to re 
 move to Los Angeles. A smile of strange sadness 
 clouded his face as he said : Go, my son, but oh ! 
 do not let thy trust in God weaken. Our labors 
 will yet bear fruit; we may not see it; but it will 
 come, though it may be one hundred years com 
 ing. Thou wilt still be near us; Los Angeles is 
 only nine miles distant; should we need thee, we 
 will send a messenger." 
 
 ft ft ft 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 DON CLAUDIO MOVES TO LOS ANGELES 
 
 [UNE the first Farewell, San Gabriel, 
 thou splendor of an earthly Paraside; I 
 leave thee now, to enter another life. My 
 life is of no more use here. 
 
 "I leave now the scenes of my youthful love. I 
 love and hold sacred every path, every trail, thy 
 blessed feet have trod, Anita. Here where thy 
 winsome child-face was upturned to mine, that 
 glance, that glorious smile flashed into my soul; 
 my heart spoke its love and you promised to be 
 mine, O that, my happiest day ! and again on that 
 same, never-to-be-forgotten day, when thy soft, 
 
118 Claudio and Anita 
 
 dark, earnest eyes uplifted to the pale moon above, 
 and with a sweet expression on thy pensive face 
 thou saidst, what will our world be a hundred 
 years from now? I, with the ardour of my youth, 
 fired by thy inspiration, spoke the ambitions of 
 my heart. 
 
 "Years of vain toil and care have passed; yet I 
 complain not. To have known and loved thee, 
 Anita, and the cause for which I worked is my 
 solace and my recompense. Here, at the foot of 
 thy monument, I do avow I have striven to do 
 thy bidding, when, with thy last breath, thou 
 didst charge me to remain and continue the work 
 I had begun. I promised thee then; with a smile 
 of perfect happiness, mirrored on thy tranquil 
 beauty, thy pure spirit passed away in a glowing 
 cloud to our Father s home on high. Oh ! Is there 
 any misery to be compared to my continual grief? 
 Here, in the calm beauty of the hills, under the 
 dome of heaven, is thy monument, Anita, dedi 
 cated to thy memory, to me the dearest and holiest 
 spot on earth. Santa Anita, farewell!" 
 
 Don Claudio moved about, giving orders for 
 the packing, with an undercurrent of agitation and 
 sadness, unseen in his face, step, motion or gest 
 ure. The grief he felt at leaving his beloved San 
 Gabriel and his Santa Anita home would have 
 been his undoing, but for a thing bigger than him 
 self, a passion to do big things. In Los Angeles, 
 
Don Claudio Moves to Los Angeles 119 
 
 he soon gathered an army of men and set them to 
 planting orchards and vineyards, erected several 
 buildings ; and still found time to often ride to San 
 Gabriel, rendering to Father de Salvidea what aid 
 he could. 
 
 FOUR YEARS AFTER 
 
 "Father de Salvidea tells me," Don Claudio re 
 corded, "that at Anita s death my vow was ful 
 filled; therefore, I will give my life to a purpose, 
 that of making another happy. Because Maria 
 Louisa, a gentle and lovely girl, truly loves me, I 
 will make her my wife. She knows my sorrow, 
 and is willing to share my gloomy life. This love, 
 bestowed upon me, I will cherish, and, with all 
 my soul, I pray that I may make this trustful girl 
 happy. Yet thy memory I will venerate, Anita, 
 thou glorious vision of my youth." 
 
 Some time after, Don Claudio was married to 
 Maria Louisa Coto, a cousin of Anita s, and, like 
 Anita, a beautiful girl with blue eyes and golden 
 hair. He apparently lived in contentment the rest 
 of his life. 
 
 Don Claudio sat on the veranda of his Los An 
 geles home, watching the same eternal sun, declin 
 ing into the evening frame of the misty clouds 
 arising from the Pacific, his mind dwelling on the 
 world he had left behind beyond the Atlantic. 
 
120 Claudio and Anita 
 
 Memories came trooping back of the pleasures of 
 his gay, frivolous, yet happy youth; and, on this 
 side of the Atlantic, the strange adventures and 
 years of useless toil. What would be the ultimate 
 destiny of this land in which he toiled? While 
 no thought of the end was in his mind that even 
 ing, yet he was not without some presentment of 
 the closing scene. Thus he sat pondering, when 
 he heard the fast thumping of hoofs. The next 
 moment a horseman halted before him, his horse 
 in a lather of sweat. He quickly dismounted 
 and handed Don Claudio a letter. "A pressing 
 message from Father Sanchez," he said. Don 
 Claudio seized the letter, opened and read it. 
 Springing up, he read and reread it with strain 
 ing eyes, walked forward a few steps, and then 
 turning to the messenger said : 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A HURRIED SUMMONS TO SAN GABRIEL 
 
 ELL Juan to saddle two of my speediest 
 horses and bring them up without delay !" 
 This done, he mounted, and ordered his 
 man to follow. The steeds broke into a fast run 
 toward the mission. 
 
 The letter said in part: "Every vestige of re 
 straint on the part of the rioters has vanished. 
 
Don Claudio Moves to Los Angeles 121 
 
 They have set fire to the store rooms. Your pres 
 ence might avert a great peril that threatens." 
 
 The serious alarm, which Father Sanchez let 
 ter aroused, possessed Don Claudio. It filled him 
 with consternation. The unveiled peril, that he 
 was called to avert, what was it 4 ? Great heavens ! 
 Would he reach the mission in time before the 
 fire reached the storerooms ? For a moment despair 
 seized his soul, and the thin columns of smoke, 
 rising over the hills, promised but a ray of hope. 
 He urged his foaming horse to a faster run, and, 
 dizzy with anxiety, neared the mission.. A wail 
 of instruments, wild and discordant, fell upon his 
 ears as he approached. The revelry roared louder. 
 Threats, half in earnest and half jocular, were 
 heard above the clamor. 
 
 The Padres voices, lifted loud, were strained, 
 as if striving to be heard above the uproar. Shrieks 
 and ribald laughter pierced the air. Without a 
 word or an instant s hesitation, Don Claudio 
 plunged through the rioters and stopped before 
 the ruined wall of the storeroom. Leaping from 
 his horse and throwing the reins to his man, he 
 walked around the wall to the spot where he had 
 stored Father de Salvidea s art treasures, rare 
 works, and priceless manuscripts. (These were a 
 great loss to mankind, as Father de Salvidea was 
 known to be a literary genius.) Also his own 
 (Don Claudio s) manuscripts, documents and 
 
122 Claudio and Anita 
 
 grants, which had been stored in the same place. 
 He stood for a moment, looking at the broken 
 fragments of iron-clamped chests that remained 
 above the ashes. A cry of horror escaped his dry 
 lips. Suddenly he raised his hand to his forehead, 
 and fell prostrate. Father Sanchez was instantly 
 summoned. He hurried to the prostrate form, 
 and, without a word, dropped to his knees, thrust 
 his hand under the vest and felt Don Claudio s 
 heart. It was beating, but weakly. The good 
 Father administered the last rites of the Church. 
 Very tenderly Don Claudio was lifted, carried 
 into the priest s house, and laid upon a couch. 
 
 A murmur spread in every direction among the 
 rioters, a murmur that was little more than a 
 whisper; "Don Claudio had dropped dead!" The 
 half-maddened, murderous rioters halted in their 
 surprise. A panic seized them as the news reached 
 them. They were just in the atrocious act of set 
 ting fire to the altar, as a preliminary to destroy 
 ing the holy vestments and pictures, and demolish 
 ing the church. In horror and superstitious fear, 
 the terrified rioters crept close to one another, but 
 when Don Claudio was borne by they parted to 
 right and left, bared their heads, and folded their 
 arms. Don Claudio had been their idol in times 
 gone by. A few of the more vicious howled their 
 disappointment, and raged at being cheated of 
 blood and spoil, and wished to continue; but the 
 
Don Claudio Moves to Los -Angeles 123 
 
 more temperate soon overcame them, and quiet 
 reigned again. 
 
 Don Claudio expired the second day following 
 the attack January the first, 1833 without re 
 gaining consciousness, and was buried inside the 
 church under the holy water fount. 
 
 "We tell thy doom without a sigh; 
 For thou art freedom s now and fame s ; 
 One of the few, the immortal names 
 That were not born to die ; 
 A life of honor and of worth 
 Has no eternity on earth." 
 
 * * n 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FATHER SANCHEZ ADDRESS TO THE 
 NEOPHITES 
 
 [HERE lies the remains of Don Claudio, 
 your kind and gentle master. He came to 
 you in the vigor of his youth and gave the 
 remainder of his life to you, teaching you the arts 
 and industries which you now know. He strove 
 to make you self-supporting, and of value to the 
 community as well as to yourselves. 
 
 "Now while yet in the vigor of his manhood, 
 you rioters have killed him; killed your benefac 
 tor just as sure as if each one of you had plunged 
 your dagger into his noble heart. 
 
124 Claudio and Anita 
 
 "The scenes and atrocities which took place in 
 this mission two days ago; the anguish it caused 
 him like a dagger, I know, pierced his true heart; 
 and in mortal sorrow died, one of the noblest 
 among men, our best loved Don Claudio." 
 
 Father Sanchez voice broke with a sob; men, 
 women, and children moaned out pitifully. Father 
 Sanchez, composing himself, waited until they 
 were calm, then continued : 
 
 "Be comforted, my children, for even now his 
 spirit, in pity, may be looking down on you, pray 
 ing, pleading, for you, even as our Saviour did on 
 the cross, Father, forgive them, for they know 
 not what they do. 
 
 "Ours, my children, is no common bereave 
 ment. The chain which linked our hearts to his 
 gifted spirit has been suddenly snapped, and death 
 has taken from among us the wisest and most rev 
 ered. How sudden, how mysteriously ! for it was 
 but yesterday many of you saw him ride by in the 
 fulness of vigor and health. 
 
 "Stilled now, is the heart of him who but yes 
 terday was the seat of loving solicitude for us; 
 whose persuasive words we have so often and so 
 lately heard. Whom can we appeal to now, for 
 aid in days of turmoil and trial, when lies there 
 cold, he who with his death stilled the horrors of 
 yesterday 4 ? Oh, the unspeakable horror of that 
 day, the death stroke of noble Claudio ! Now, his 
 
Father Sanchez Address 125 
 
 spirit mingles with the army of martyrs who have 
 gone before ! 
 
 "What monument can you erect to him, who 
 dedicated the best of his life to you*? Some sym 
 bol of his love for you? This I know would be 
 his dearest wish: Erect a lasting monument to 
 him in your hearts, so you may treasure his mem 
 ory. Avoid your past errors, and forget not the 
 virtues he taught you. Choose the Saviour for 
 your support in temptation, and, when your hour 
 comes, he will meet you and lead you to receive 
 the reward which is the promise of God to the 
 faithful. Pray earnestly for his soul, that he may 
 speedily receive the crown he so richly deserves. 
 Tomorrow he shall be placed to rest in the conse 
 crated spot of this church, which he helped to 
 erect, this shall be his tomb." 
 
 Father Sanchez paused, and with a lingering 
 look at the still, pale face, walked out. His heart 
 was breaking, however, for he died just two weeks 
 from the day of Don Claudio s death, apparently 
 through grief. Father Sanchez was buried at the 
 foot of the altar in the presbytery, January 17, 
 1833. 
 
 Don Claudio s death saved the further destruc 
 tion of the mission, and possibly many lives. It is 
 affirmed, in just tribute to his memory, that the 
 Indians never attempted another demonstration 
 of violence against the mission. Knowing the 
 
126 Claudio and Anita 
 
 grandeur of the man, he formed a power in their 
 lives. The neophites cherished his memory even 
 to idolatry. 
 
 * * * 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CLAUDIO LOPEZ, A PIONEER OF CIVIL- 
 IZATION 
 
 ON CLAUDIO was the first white man to 
 school the Indians in the civilized arts and 
 industries of Europe in the locality now 
 known as Pasadena. He ruled that vast army of 
 Indians under his command with strict, yet kindly 
 discipline. They revered him and served him with 
 respect. His word was law to them. Always mod 
 erate in words and action, he demanded strict 
 obedience to his orders. Any deviation from that 
 rule, was punished by incarceration, but never 
 with the lash. His orders to his task masters were, 
 "See that they do their work well; but, mind ye, 
 no lashes." 
 
 At the Mission of San Gabriel it was one of Don 
 Claudio s duties to receive and entertain visitors 
 of note. The guests were wont to ask whence 
 came this young man so cultured, so charming. He 
 received the greatest respect, even from his supe 
 riors; for, in the heat of discussion, he was mod 
 erate, but convincing. The wisdom which stamped 
 
Claudio Lopez, a Pioneer 127 
 
 his views carried great weight with all superiors 
 and dependents. In his handsome face dignity 
 and goodness were combined. The sorrow which 
 clung to him, he had never been able to shake 
 loose. It could often be perceived in his melan 
 choly glances. Yet, how he was honored by his 
 fellow men, and with what reliance they looked to 
 him for guidance, as one looks to friend or master ! 
 
 Surely there have been verified the prophetic 
 words of the noble Father de Salvidea when, in 
 consoling Cloudia in his depressed moods, he 
 would say, "My son, our labors will yet bear 
 fruit. We may not see it, but it will come, though 
 it be a hundred years coming." 
 
 Great rejoicing must be for Don Claudio, if, 
 with his spiritual eyes, he beholds the wonderful 
 development which has come in the land he loved 
 so well and for which he stood sponsor, when, un 
 der his supervision, ground was broken, for the 
 first time, for the planting of trees and vines and 
 for the sowing of seed. 
 
 Traces of his handiwork still exist in an old 
 mill, now carefully guarded as one of the earliest 
 landmarks, where a somber yet beautiful and 
 peaceful gloom pervades. Trees, gnarled with 
 age, still survive. A lordly pine stands near the 
 door, with its top slightly leaning towards it, as 
 if on watch; its mournful attitude conveying the 
 memory of the mortal sorrow and untimely death 
 
128 Claudia and Anita 
 
 of Don Cl audio Lopez, its architect. There is an 
 indescribable charm about this spot. Homes of 
 matchless beauty and magnificence are adjacent to 
 the mill ; homes of people, who could have chosen 
 any district in the world for fertility, climate and 
 beauty, yet decided on this spot. 
 
 Claudio would now see that his life s work had 
 not been in vain. How consoling to know that 
 the mill has been conserved by noble-hearted peo 
 ple who have stayed the desolating hand of time 
 and caused its presence to breathe an essence more 
 exquisite than the perfume of the roses which still 
 blossom on the corner of the old mill. 
 
 One is lost in reverie. May not this be the 
 haunt of a gentle spirit whose life and whose 
 appreciation of the beautiful in nature and in art 
 draw it here 4 ? While thus musing the following 
 lines from the pen of Kercheval, in his poem, "San 
 Gabriel", come to mind : 
 
 SAN GABRIEL 
 
 "This is the spot of all earth s 
 
 Fondest dreams of Eden 
 Best by fairies loved, yet by 
 
 Fairies haunted ; 
 Still o er the scenes they loved so well 
 
 Lingers a dreamy glamour." 
 
 The whole scene, among those palatial homes, 
 is that of richness, quietudes and miraculous ex 
 tremes of culture, suggesting a new race of fairies 
 in this enchanted circle. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 RULE OF FRA JOSE MARIA DE SALVIDEA 
 AT SAN GABRIEL MISSION 
 
 RA JOSE MARIA DE SALVIDEA was 
 
 born at Bibloa Vizcaya, Spain, on March 
 2, 1780. He received the habit of St. 
 Francis on Dec. 13, 1798, and came to the col 
 lege of San Fernando, Mexico, in September, 
 1804. He arrived in California in August, 1805, 
 and was stationed at San Fernando in 1805 and at 
 San Gabriel ni 1806-26. At San Juan Capistrano, 
 1826-42, and at San Luis Rey in 1842-46. 
 
 From the first he was regarded as one of the best 
 and most zealous of the Fathers, as Priest, teacher 
 and manager of the temporalities. His judgment 
 and prudence had commanded the unanimous ap 
 probation of the Society for the high position he 
 had enjoyed. He had all the intrepidity and res 
 olution requisite for beginning and conducting 
 the greatest enterprise. His wisdom and intellect 
 ual talent had gained for him universal esteem, 
 which was heightened to veneration. 
 
 Father de Salvidea was in the flower of his 
 splendid manhood when he took charge of the 
 
 131 
 
132 Claudio and Anita 
 
 ecclesiastical and temporal affairs of the San Ga 
 briel Mission in the year of 1806. He was tall, 
 stately and courteous. His complexion was fair 
 and his face one of remarkable delicacy and refine 
 ment. History relates he was never known to have 
 an enemy. His mind was vigorous like his body. 
 He looked fearlessly at the face of the mighty 
 task he undertook, which has been related in the 
 beginning of our story. He surveyed the situa 
 tion and measured the extent of his knowledge 
 and understanding; then he looked for an assist 
 ant, and found an efficient and capable co-opera 
 tor in Claudio Lopez. Both went body, soul and 
 heart into the work of civilizing and christianiz 
 ing the savages in this jurisdiction, instructing 
 them in the industries of self-support, and estab 
 lishing the affairs of the Mission in wealth and 
 opulence. 
 
 Father de Salvidea had also a comfortable 
 house, built just across the El Camino Real, west 
 of the church, for the exclusive use of Claudio 
 Lopez and for the accommodation of guests who 
 should come to the Mission. It had spacious rooms, 
 luxuriantly furnished, adorned with paintings, 
 some of them by the old masters, genuine and 
 great works of art. The entertainment of the 
 guests was assigned to Don Claudio, he being a 
 man of letters, courteous and affable. 
 
Rule of Fra. J. M. De Salvidea 133 
 
 Father de Salvidea mastered the Indian lan 
 guage, translating the church service into it, and 
 preached to the Indians in their native tongue, "a 
 grand specimen of his eloquence and ability." 
 
 By a noted historian : George Wharton James.* 
 he was called the "Martinet of Missionaries", 
 and, in truth, he might be called so; for his 
 achievements attest this statement. Under his ad 
 ministration, together with the supervision of his 
 major-domo, Claudio Lopez, the Mission of San 
 Gabriel attained its maximum of prosperity. He 
 brought the establishment and everything con 
 nected with it to the climax of perfection. He 
 planted orchards and vineyards, and the gardens 
 were a marvel of beauty. They were edged with 
 Castilian rose bushes, fountains, statuary, hour- 
 dials, arbors and grottoes, fine walks shaded by 
 fruit trees of every description, exotic shrubs and 
 flowers, interspersed. Everything was in such 
 perfect taste, that the effect was both harmonious 
 and restful. He brought water from a long dis 
 tance through cement pipes with which to irrigate 
 gardens and orchards. 
 
 He remodeled the existent system of Govern 
 ment. Under his wonderful management, herds 
 of cattle, horses. and sheep increased to innumer- 
 
 * George Wharton James in his History of the Mis 
 sions. 
 
134 Claudia and Anita 
 
 able numbers in a few years. According to Robin 
 son s report, the Mission of San Gabriel had 12,- 
 000 cattle in 1814, twelve years after Father Sal- 
 videa took charge. It has been the custom, in cur 
 rent newspapers, to grossly exaggerate the wealth 
 and prosperity of this Mission ; though, doubtless, 
 under the care of Father Salvidea it was wisely 
 and systematically managed and prosperous. How 
 can one imagine that a priest, loved and revered 
 by the neophites, could be guilty of such diabolic 
 cruelty as some historians relate ? It is a slander 
 on that grand and holy man. The best and most 
 equivocal proof is found in the unbounded affec 
 tion invariably shown towards him by the neo 
 phites. They venerated him like a father with a 
 degree of devotion approaching adoration. In sup 
 port of my argument I will quote, from Bartlett s 
 report, the following: 
 
 "Five thousand Indians were at that time col 
 lected at the Mission of San Gabriel. They are 
 represented to have been sober and industrious, 
 well fed and clothed, and seemed to have experi 
 enced as high a state of happiness as they are 
 adapted by nature to receive. These five thousand 
 Indians constituted a large family of which the 
 Padre was the social and religious, and we might 
 say, political head. Living thus, this neglected 
 race began to learn some of the fundamental prin 
 ciples of civilized life. The institution of mar- 
 
Rule of Fra. J. M. De Salvidea 135 
 
 riage began to be respected and blessed. The 
 rites of religion grew to be so much considered, 
 that deviations from its duties were somewhat 
 infrequent occurrences. The girls, at their arrival 
 at the age of womanhood, were separated from 
 the rest of the population and taught the useful 
 arts of sewing, weaving, carding, etc. The young 
 men who showed talent for music were instructed 
 in it. Some of them wrote their own music." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE DESPOILING OF THE MISSIONS 
 
 HE chief of the Ketchis of San Luis Rey 
 told Bartlett that his tribe was large and 
 that his people were happy when the good 
 Padres were there to protect them; that they cul 
 tivated the soil, assisted in rearing large herds of 
 cattle, were taught blacksmi thing, carpentering, 
 as well as other trades; that they had plenty to 
 eat and were comfortably housed. Such was the 
 happy state of the Indians under the missionaries. 
 After the secularization they were scattered about 
 without a home or protection, and were in a miser 
 able starving condition. 
 
 "Is it not terrible," he continued, cc to see wrested 
 from us the Missions we have built, the herds that 
 we have gathered by our care, and ourselves and 
 
136 Claudia and Anita 
 
 our families exposed to ill treatment and death 
 itself? 
 
 Forbes shows them reduced to poverty, plunged 
 in vice, constantly in prison and a pest to the 
 country, within a short time after the suppression 
 of the Missions. 
 
 San Gabriel, once the hive of industries, rich in 
 gold derived from the trading of its abundant re 
 sources, the toil of the neophites, from the num 
 berless herd, and the boundless zeal, toil and sac- 
 rines of our heroes, all came to naught through 
 the secularization, and, in the same degree that 
 we admire those zealous heroes, we must stamp 
 with ignominy the men and the policy which de 
 stroyed the work of the Missionaries and drove 
 their inmates, the neophites, back to a state worse 
 than barbarism. 
 
 Father de Salvidea was kind in the extreme to 
 travelers and others. A splendid public table was 
 spread daily at which he presided. Horses to ride 
 were at the services of the guests; and good clean 
 beds to sleep upon at night. 
 
 In fact, the government of the Mission San 
 Gabriel was conducted by Father de Salvidea like 
 a little principality ; yet, whatever he planned and 
 so grandly executed, the thought of the best in 
 terests of the Mission and the temporal and spirit 
 ual advancement of the neophites were para 
 mount. He surrounded himself with the beauti- 
 
Despoiling of the Missions 137 
 
 fill things of nature and art. His elegance per 
 vaded everything, which told their own story 
 of a life begun in high spheres. History relates, 
 that envy and jealousy stepped in and prevailed. 
 
 He was ordered by his superiors to the partially 
 wrecked missions of San Juan Capistrano. How 
 ever, Father de Salvidea obtained permission to 
 remain at San Gabriel a while longer, which time 
 lengthened to about four years. He had hoped 
 that his influence among the neophites might quell 
 the abandonment into which they were falling. 
 
 Who can tell the long agony of spirit, the inex 
 plicable anguish that he endured in the face of 
 this catastrophe? It was at this juncture that 
 Father de Salvidea, in a desperate extremity and 
 with a courage that rose above the wreck of hope, 
 wrote that admirable plea and petition in behalf 
 
 of the Indians. 
 
 at n *, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FATHER DE SALVIDEA S REMOVAL TO 
 SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 
 
 INALLY, it became impossible for him to 
 remain at San Gabriel any longer. To 
 leave, and obey the order, which transfer 
 red him to San Juan Capistrano, he knew would 
 cost him a struggle ; yet he must obey. 
 
 Father de Salvidea stood looking at the garden 
 
138 Claudio and Anita 
 
 he had planted and had watched come into bloom, 
 the paths he had trodden when reading his bre 
 viary. He looked over at the mountains; there 
 under the green and silent shade of the majestic 
 oaks and pines were the haunts of many a medi 
 tating hour. With his noble form, shaken by emo 
 tion, and with a bleeding heart he bowed his 
 head and departed, after having given twenty- 
 eight years of his life to the service of the Mis 
 sion. Fourteen years after the height of San Ga 
 briel s epoch of prosperity and renown, conditions 
 had changed at the Mission. 
 
 We have seen Father de Salvidea in the glory 
 of his days; now his looks are no more lofty, nor 
 his steps stately ; the vigor of his intellect is gone. 
 Of all that was gained in these years of ardent 
 labors, nothing remained; only broken memories 
 of the glory that was departed. 
 
 A few years later we see him again, as he stood 
 leaning on his staff, tears overflowing from his 
 breaking heart. He looks upon the destruction, 
 now taking place, of all those years of sacrifice and 
 patient, consecrated toil; for General Echandia, 
 with other political intruders, wreckers of Spanish 
 California, were encouraging the Indians, among 
 whom anarchy prevailed, by flaunting equality in 
 their faces, and by promising those simple people 
 a share in the spoils. 
 
 Robbing and stabbings were the order of those 
 
Father De Salvidea s Removal 139 
 
 days. Drunken Indians, staggering along from 
 the scenes of debauch ejaculated "Soy Libre Soy 
 Libre!" "I am free I am free!" 
 
 Such sights pierced the weary old padre to the 
 heart, and the government did not and could not 
 afford security to any condition of life, either 
 within or without the Missions. 
 
 This knowledge, and the fierceness of his losing 
 struggles, filled the padre s eyes with tears, and 
 made him sad, even at the sight of San Gabriel s 
 hills and valleys, gay with flowers and the clear 
 sweet air in their mingled perfume. In the midst 
 of this beauty, peaceful and secure stands his be 
 loved San Gabriel, shining in the pale light, its 
 noble fachada, its bell tower, its noble cross, out 
 lining themselves against the clear and peaceful 
 sky. Often he walked on the crest of the hills and 
 often he stopped to rest, his abstracted gaze riv 
 eted in the far-away beginning of all those things. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 THE PASSING OF A NOBLE SOUL 
 
 HEN sick unto death, he refused to quit 
 San Luis Rey, where he believed his serv 
 ices to be needed; but finally it was 
 thought best to remove him to San Juan, where he 
 could have better care. A cart was prepared, with 
 
140 Claudio and Anita 
 
 all possiblbe conveniences, by advice of Father A. 
 Oliva and A. Lorenzana, who had nursed him for 
 some days. 
 
 The night before the journey was to be made 
 Father de Salvidea died, much regretted by all 
 who knew his worth and gigantic intellect. The 
 exact date of his death is not known, but it was 
 apparently early in 1846. He was buried in the 
 Mission San Luis Rey at the left of the altar. 
 
 Many years have passed ; but San Gabriel Mis 
 sion still stands, in all its pristine beauty; but in 
 its surroundings another race now dwells. Here 
 and there, in humble dwellings, still remain a few 
 natives, whose fathers never tire of repeating the 
 story of the great but silent Don Claudio and the 
 saintly Father de Salvidea. 
 
 We cannot refrain from copying the following 
 adaptation of lines from Longfellow for the sake 
 of the interest they inspire. 
 
 "Rise again, ye shapes and shadows of the past, 
 
 Rise from your long- forgotten graves : 
 
 Let us behold your face ; 
 
 Let us hear the words of wisdom you uttered in 
 
 those days of yore; 
 Revisit your familiar haunts again, 
 The scenes of triumph, the scenes of care and pain, 
 And leave the footprints of your bleeding feet 
 Once more upon the Camino Real !" 
 
fke Passing of a Noble Soul 141 
 
 Should those noble men be forgotten, who, 
 without a thought of profit or gain or self-aggran 
 dizement, gave their lives with heroic devotion to 
 the cause of Christianity and Civilization? Should 
 we not, with sculptored figures, perpetuate their 
 names and rehearse their virtues to the passing 
 traveler? 
 
 We fear, that by setting before the eyes of our 
 readers recitals of misfortunes, which overtook 
 persons of highest quality and lofty aims, we will, 
 of necessity, weaken our faith in the fruits of 
 self-sacrifice ; but let us hope that it cannot fail to 
 be significant in example and inspiration. These 
 noble men accepted their fate as soldiers of God, 
 Christianity and Civilization. 
 
 They were good and great in what they were 
 and did; and great, too, in the wrongs and mis 
 fortunes which befell, even as an oak, crashing in 
 storm or by axe, on the hillside is still great, is 
 still oak. 
 
 We may well believe, that the closing scene for 
 Father de Salvidea was full of tranquillity, hope 
 and faith; and, that he, who had given his life 
 to so great and holy a purpose, and who had passed 
 through deep worldly trials and sorrows, should 
 rest at last in the peace which passeth all under 
 standing. 
 
142 Claudio and Anita 
 
 "Spread out earth s holiest records here, 
 
 Of days and deeds which scattered wide and 
 
 free 
 
 The golden seeds of bright and loving truth, 
 Whose harvests multiply, whose fruits forever 
 
 more must be." 
 So, great soul, consecrated and faithful life 
 
 Requiescat in Pace. 
 

 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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