They had now arrived at the main entrance to the grounds, and the scene presented was one of indescribable beauty and splendor. The dazzling proportions of the structure rose into the air with such exceeding lightness and grace of outline, melting away against the silvery softness of the clouds, that it seemed swinging in the ambient air, and only for the cornices and columns and spires and turrets of onyx and agate which defined the outlines against the sky, one would look to see it float away like dissolving views of the Celestial City. The magnificent dome was rounded with bent and many-colored glasses, the eloquent figures storying events of history both classic and local, in pigments not known since the days of Donatello, who went mad because his figure could not speak. And there, upon its pedestal of purest alabaster, stood the chaste statue of Psyche, just as Morning had hewn it out of his captious fancy so long ago, and Cupid opposite, half eager, half evasive, and restless. Ah, well! and he looked into the deep, appreciative eyes of the woman by his side, and said not a word. Having selected the most thoroughly skilled architects, artists, and artisans, and no limit having been placed to expenditure, it was evident that every detail of Morning’s plan had been faithfully executed. But beyond this his power, or, rather, his supervision or direction, had ceased. At last it was the estate and home of the Gonzales family and not his own, and concerning its management, or the manner in which they should enjoy it, he did not offer even a suggestion. Morning’s instructions, left with the Bank of California more than two years before, were to pay all checks signed by the Señora or the Señorita Gonzales, no matter what amount, and charge them to his account. The Gonzales family had taken their good fortune with great equanimity. Their inclinations led them to a generous and exceedingly promiscuous hospitality, and they had not hesitated to arrange the ménage of their household without regard to conventionalities. Instead of the solemn and ubiquitous functionary at the open door, there was vacancy, while the party stood upon the tessellated floor of the broad vestibule for several minutes. Presently a young Spaniard in boots and clanking spurs, with silver-laced sombrero and flaming tie, threw wide the door, and simultaneously Morning caught a glimpse through an open court of a female figure leaning upon the rosewood balustrade, mounted with a cable of silver, which surrounded a corridor, and idly tossing with her fan the light, half-curling locks of a man who sat upon a low seat, resting his head against her knee.