"And I shall go," said Mrs. Yorba to her daughter, "if I _haven't_ a decent rag to my back. They think nothing of that; I was a fool not to go before. And I'm going to get well--against the time when that old fiend dies. There! I never thought I'd say that, for I was brought up in the fear of the Lord, but saying it is little different from thinking it, after all. I've been thinking it for two solid years. California's not New England, anyhow. When I do get the money, won't I scatter it! I've been economical all my life, for I had it in my blood, and it was my duty, as your father wished it; as long as he did his duty by me, I was more than willing to do mine by him: he can't deny it. But we all know what reaction means, and it has set in in me. When I am my own mistress, I'll give three balls and two dinners a week. I'll have the finest carriages and horses ever seen in California. I'll have four trousseaux a year from Paris, and I'll go to New York myself and buy the most magnificent diamonds Tiffany's got. I'll refurnish this house and Fair Oaks. The walls shall be frescoed, and every stick in them will come from New York--" She paused abruptly, springing to her elbow. The door was ajar. Through the aperture came a long low chuckle. Magdalena jumped to her feet, flung the door to, and locked it. "Do you think he's gone mad at last?" gasped Mrs. Yorba. "It sounded like it." "For Heaven's sake, don't leave me for a minute. You must sleep here at night. There's a cot somewhere,--in the attic, I think, if the rats haven't eaten it. What a life to live!" She fell to weeping, as she frequently did in these days. Suddenly her face brightened. "If he should make a will disinheriting us, we could easily enough prove him insane after the way he's been acting these four years. Thank Heaven, this is California! General William could break any will that ever was made." Mrs. Yorba took an opiate and fell asleep. Magdalena went out, locking the door behind her. She determined to ascertain at once if her father was insane. If he was, he should be confined in two of the upper rooms with a keeper. The world should know nothing of his misfortune; but it would be absurd for herself and her mother to live in a constant state of physical terror. As she descended the stair, the door of her father's study opened abruptly and a man shot out as if violently propelled from behind. The door was slammed to immediately. Magdalena ran downstairs and toward the stranger. He was a tall man greatly bowed, and as she approached him she saw that he was old and wore a long white beard. His head was large and suggested nobility and intellect; but the eyes were bleared, the flesh of the face loose and discoloured, and he was shabby and dirty. He looked like a fallen king. "Was--was--my father rude?" asked Magdalena. "He is not very well. Perhaps I can do something." The man appealed to her strangely, and she had a dollar in her purse.