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Updated: April 30, 2025
"It is Jose, the little vacquero, who is even now at the padre's house, raving as a lunatic, stricken as a madman with terror! He has seen him, the dead alive! Save us!" "Are you mad yourself, Nascio?" said Clarence. "Whom has he seen?" "Whom? God help us! the old padron Senor Peyton himself!
Nascio nevertheless still lingered. Perceiving which, Clarence handed him a cigarette and proceeded to light one himself. He knew that the vacquero would reroll his, and that that always deliberate occupation would cover and be an excuse for further confidence. "The Senora Peyton does not perhaps meet this Pedro in the society of San Francisco?" "Surely not.
"Possibly," said Clarence, "but as far as this rancho is concerned, friend Nascio, thou wilt understand and I look to thee to make the others understand that there is no Senorita SILSBEE here, only the Senorita PEYTON, the respected daughter of the senora thy mistress!"
He says if all the old families were like him, they would drive those western swine back over the mountains again." Clarence raised his eyes, caught a subtle yellow flash from Incarnacion's, gazed at him suddenly, and rose. "I don't think I have ever seen him," he said quietly. "Thank you for bringing me the spur. But keep the knowledge of it to yourself, good Nascio, for the present."
In a flash of intelligence Clarence comprehended all. He rose grimly and began to dress himself. "Not a word of this to the women, to any one, Nascio, dost thou understand?" he said curtly. "It may be that Jose has been partaking too freely of aguardiente, it is possible. I will see the priest myself. But what possesses thee? Collect thyself, good Nascio." But the man was still trembling.
"The senora's adopted daughter is called MISS PEYTON, friend Nascio. You forget yourself," said Clarence quietly. "Ah, pardon!" said Incarnacion with effusive apology; "but she was born Silsbee. Everybody knows it; she herself has told it to Pepita. The Senor Peyton bequeathed his estate to the Senora Peyton. He named not the senorita! Eh, what would you? It is the common cackle of the barnyard.
"Get up, Senor Clarencio; get up at once, my master. Strange things have happened. Mother of God protect us!" Clarence rolled to his feet, with the events of the past night struggling back upon his consciousness. "What mean you, Nascio?" he said, grasping the man's arm, which was still mechanically making the sign of the cross, as he muttered incoherently. "Speak, I command you!"
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