Her life is bounded by the social horizon of her family circle; she
is only the chatelaine. Her domain is princely, but no hope clings
in her breast of aught beside a faded middle age. Her beauty hides
itself under the simple robe of the Californian matron. Visitors
are rare in this lovely wilderness. The annual rodeo will bring
the vaqueros together. Some travelling officials may reach the
San Joaquin. The one bright possibility of her life is a future
visit to the seashore.

Spring casts its mantle of wild flowers again over the hillocks.
The rich grass waves high in the potreros; the linnets sing blithely
in the rose-bushes. Loyal Don Miguel, who always keeps his word,
girds himself for a journey to the distant Presidio. The chapel is
finished. He will return with the looked-for padre.

Leaving the sergeant in command, Don Miguel, with a few followers,
speeds to the seashore. Five days' swinging ride suffices the soldier
to reach tide-water. He is overjoyed to find that his relatives
have determined to plant a family stronghold on the San Joaquin.
This will give society to the dark-eyed beauty by the Lagunitas
who waits eagerly for her Miguel's return.

At the Presidio the Commandante is feasted. In a few days his
business is over. Riding over to the Mission Dolores, he finds
a missionary priest from Acapulco. He is self-devoted to labor.
Father Francisco Ribaut is only twenty-five years of age. Born in
New Orleans, he has taken holy orders. After a stay in Mexico, the
young enthusiast reaches the shores of the distant Pacific.