At home, in his library, where the silken rustling of that woman's dress has thrilled him in bygone years, the old Judge drinks a glass of cognac and slowly recovers his mental balance. Through smoke-clouds he sees the marble chamber of the Senate of the Great Republic. He must move on to the marriage, he has deferred until the election. It is a pledge of twenty votes in joint ballot. As for the girl Isabel, why, there is no human power to prove her legitimacy now. That priest. Bah! Dead years ago. Silence has rolled the stone over his tomb. Hardin has foreseen for years this quarrel with Natalie de Santos. But she can prove absolutely nothing. He will face her boldly. She is ALONE in the world. He can tear the veil aside and blacken her name. And yet, as evening falls, his spirit sinks within him. He can not, will not, marry the woman who has defied him. What devil, what unseen enemy put her on his track again? If he had never trusted her. Ah, too late; too late! Secretly he had laid his well-devised mines. The judge in Mariposa is weighted down with a golden bribe. The court officials are under his orders. But who is the unknown foe counselling Natalie? He cannot fathom it. Blackmail! Yes, blackmail. In three days Hardin is at Sacramento. His satellites draw up their cohorts for the senatorial struggle. If the legislature names him senator, then his guardianship will be quickly settled before the Mariposa Court. There, the contest will be inaugurated, which will declare Isabel Valois a nameless child of poverty. This is the last golden lock to the millions of Lagunitas, The poor puppet he has set up to play the contestant is under his control. He had wished to see Natalie homeward bound before this denouement. It must be. He muses. Kill her! Ah, no; too dangerous. He must FOIL her. But her mad rage at his coming marriage. Well, he knew the ambitious and stately lady who aspired to share his honors would condone the story of his early "bonnes fortunes." What could lonely Natalie do at the trial? Nothing. He has the Court in his pocket. He will brave her rage. Hardin writes a final note, warning the woman he fears, to attend with the heiress on the day of the calling for his accounting. Marvels never cease. He tears open the answer, after two sleepless nights. She simply replies that the young Lady of Lagunitas will be delivered to him on the appointed day. He cannot read this riddle. Is it a surrender in hopes of golden terms? He knows not of PŠre Fran‡ois' advice. He smiles in complacent glee. He has broken many a weak woman's nerve: she is only one more. While he ponders, waiting that reply, Natalie Santos, with heavy heart, tells the priest the story of her tryst with her old lover. PŠre Fran‡ois smiles thoughtfully. He answers: "Be calm. You will be protected. Trust to me. I will confer with our advisers. Not a word to Isabel of impending trouble."