himself a Californian could give utterance
to such sentiments? Oh, abomination! You would invite, welcome,
uphold, the American adventurer? You would tear apart the bosom of
your country under pretense of doctoring its evils? You would cast
this fair gift of Almighty God at the feet of American swine? Oh,
Diego! Diego! This comes of the heretic books thou hast read. It is
better to have heart than brain."

"True: the palpitations do not last as long. We have had proof which I
need not recapitulate that to preserve California to itself it must be
tied fast to Mexico, otherwise would it die of anarchy or fall a prey
to the first invader. So far so good. But what has Mexico done for
California? Nothing; and she will do less. She is a mother who has
forgotten the child she put out to nurse. England and France and
Russia would do as little. But the United States, young and
ambitious, will give her greedy attention, and out of their greed
will California's good be wrought. And although they sweep us from the
earth, they will plant fruit where they found weeds."

Don Jose pushed back his chair violently and left the table. Estenega
turned to Chonita and found her pallid, her nostrils tense, her eyes
flashing.

"Traitor!" she articulated. "I hate you! And it was you--_you_--who
kept my loyal brother from serving his country in the Departmental
Junta. He is as full of fire and patriotism as Castro; and yet you,
whose blood is ice, could be a member of the Electoral College and
defeat the election of a man who is as much an honor to his country as
you are a shame."

He smiled a little cruelly, but without anger or shame in his face.
"Senorita," he said, "I defeated your brother because I did not
believe him to be of any use to his country. He would only have been
in the way as a member of the Junta, and an older man wanted the
place. Your brother has Don Jose's enthusiasm without his magnetism
and remarkable executive power. He is too young to have had
experience, and has done neither reading nor thinking. Therefore I
did my best to defeat him. Pardon my rudeness, senorita; ascribe it to
revenge for calling me a traitor."

"You--you----" she stammered, then bent her head over her plate,
her Spanish dignity aghast at the threatening tears. Her hand hung
clinched at her side. Diego took it in spite of resistance, and,
opening the rigid fingers, bent his head beneath the board and kissed
them.

"I believe you are somewhat