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Updated: May 2, 2025
The man who controls the millions of Lagunitas is surrounded by his loyal body-guard at Mariposa. When the two men are alone, Woods waits for Hardin to speak. He is silent. There is a gulf between them which never can be bridged. Joseph feels he is no match for Hardin in chicanery, but he has his little surprise in store for the lawyer. It is an armed truce.
Davis resumes, his voice ringing cold and clear: "I shall also prove by documents, concealed by the administrator, that Maxime Valois never parted with the title to the Lagunitas mine; that the millions have been stolen, which it has yielded. I will bring in the evidence of the clerk who received these last letters from the absent owner in the field, that they are genuine.
As he lies in the guest chamber of Lagunitas, Philip Hardin is haunted all night by a wild unrest. If Lagunitas were only his. There is only Valois between him and the hidden millions in these quartz veins. Will no Yankee bullet do its work? The tireless brain works on, as crafty Philip Hardin slumbers that night. Visions of violence, of hidden traps, of well-planned crime, haunt his dreams.
On the 8th, Montgomery throws the national starry emblem to the breeze at the Golden Gates of San Francisco. The old PORTSMOUTH'S heavy cannon roar their notes of triumph. Valois remains lonely and inactive at Lagunitas. His priestly friend warns him that he would be assassinated at any halting place if he tried to join his friends.
Valois, uninterested in this urban struggle, returns to Lagunitas. His domain rewards his energy. All is peace by the diamond lake. Senora Dolores, her tutor, Padre Francisco, and the placid Duenna Juanita make up a pleasant home circle. It is brightened by luxuries provided by the new lord. Maxime Valois' voice is heard through the valleys.
Has Natalie an intrigue? Is she already secretly married? Is the heiress of Lagunitas dead? The labors of his waking hours and the brandy bottle only tell him of an unfaithful woman's vagaries; a greedy lover's plots, or the curiosity of the dark-eyed maid, whose avarice is above her fidelity. Bah! she will tattle. No woman can resist it; they all talk. But this Italian cur; he must be watched.
Natalie's lip curls as she fathoms the motive of the girl's disappearance. Friends of Marie Berard's have probably secreted her, as a part of the old scheme of blackmail upon her. Did the secret die with her? It is fight now. She muses: "Now they may keep her. The seal of the grave is on the only lips which could tell the story of Lagunitas." Villa Rocca even, does not know who the child was!
"I see it now," murmurs the priest. "The children have been changed. For what object?" He tells Woods of the proofs gained in days of Louise's illness. "Your little friend is the heiress of Lagunitas?" Woods asks. "I am sure of it. We must prove it." "Leave that to me," bursts out Joe, striding the room, puffing at his cigar. "How will you do it?" falters the priest.
Beloved men are dying vainly, day by day, under its sacred folds. Even Beauty's spell is vain. The wild oats are golden once more on the hills of Lagunitas; the early summer breezes waft stray leaf and blossom over the glittering lake in the Mariposa Mountains. Heading the tireless riflemen of his command, Valois throws himself in desperation on the Union lines at Chickamauga.
In the days of the convalescence of Raoul Dauvray, the two friends of the soldier-artist, now waiting the orders for the great attack, commune as to his rights. It would not be well to disturb him with false hopes. The gentle old priest tells Raoul the whole story of Lagunitas. "Mon pere," says the sculptor, "I think there is something wrong with the affairs of that estate.
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