Gabriel Conroy

"Why, where did you ever see Mrs. Conroy before?" asked Grace of her husband, when they had reached Wingdam that night.

"I never saw Mrs. Conroy before," returned Arthur, with legal precision. "I met a lady in St. Louis years ago under another name, who, I dare say, is now your brother's wife. But – I think, Grace – the less we see of her – the better."

"Why?"

"By the way, darling, what was that paper that Gabriel gave you?" asked Arthur, lightly, avoiding the previous question.

Grace drew the paper from her pocket, blushed slightly, kissed her husband, and then putting her arms around his neck, laid her face in his breast, while he read aloud, in Spanish, the following: —

"This is to give trustworthy statement that on the 18th of May 1848, a young girl, calling herself Grace Conroy, sought shelter and aid at the Presidio of San Geronimo. Being friendless – but of the B. V. M. and the Saints – I adopted her as my daughter, with the name of Dolores Salvatierra. Six months after her arrival, on the 12th of November 1848, she was delivered of a dead child, the son of her affianced husband, one Philip Ashley. Wishing to keep her secret from the world and to prevent recognition by the members of her own race and family, by the assistance and advice of an Indian peon, Manuela, she consented that her face and hands should be daily washed by the juice of the Yokoto– whose effect is to change the skin to the colour of bronze. With this metamorphosis she became known, by my advice and consent, as the daughter of the Indian Princess Nicata and myself. And as such I have recognised in due form her legal right in the appointment of my estate.

"Given at the Presidio of San Geronimo, this 1st day of December 1848.

    "Juan Hermenizildo Salvatierra."

"But how did Gabriel get this?" asked Arthur.

"I – don't – know!" said Grace.

"To whom did you give it?"

"To – Padre Felipe."

"Oh, I see!" said Arthur. "Then you are Mr. Dumphy's long-lost wife?"

"I don't know what Father Felipe did," said Grace, tossing her head slightly. "I put the matter in his hands."

"The whole story?"

"I said nothing about you – you great goose!"

Arthur kissed her by way of acknowledging the justice of the epithet.

"But I ought to have told Mrs. Sepulvida the whole story when she said you proposed to her. You're sure you didn't?" continued Grace, looking into her husband's eyes.

"Never," said the admirable young man, promptly.

CHAPTER XII.

FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM OLYMPIA CONROY TO GRACE POINSETT

" – the baby is doing well. And only think – Gabe has struck it again! And you was the cause, dear – and he says it all belongs to you – like the old mule that he is. Don't you remember when you was telling me about Doctor Divergers giving you that rock and how you rubed it until the silver shone, well, you took up a rock from our old chimbly and rubed it, while you was telling it. And thet rock Gabe came across next morning, all shining where you had rubed it. And shure enuff it was sollid silver. And then Gabe says, says he, 'We've struck it agin, fur the chimbly rock was taken from the first hole I dug on the hill only a hundred feet from here.' And shure enuff, yesterday he purspected the hole and found the leed agin. And we are all very ritch agin and comin' to see you next yeer, only that Gabe is such a fool! Your loving Sister,

    "Olympia Conroy."

END OF VOL. IV

notes

1

I fear I must task the incredulous reader's further patience by calling attention to what may perhaps prove the most literal and thoroughly-attested fact of this otherwise fanciful chronicle. The condition and situation of the ill-famed "Donner Party" – then an unknown, unheralded cavalcade of emigrants – starving in an unfrequented pass of the Sierras, was first made known to Captain Yount of Napa, in a dream. The Spanish records of California show that the relief party which succoured the survivors was projected upon this spiritual information.