After dinner we saw her
reseated in the stage, and the black silk reticule containing the
picture was upon her lap as the stage carried her homeward."
We learned from them further that grandpa had been convicted of
manslaughter and sentenced to San Quentin Prison for a term of eleven
years, and that grandma had been granted a divorce, and awarded all the
property, but was having great trouble because it had since become
involved and was being frittered away in litigation.
The information given by the Robinsons increased our uneasiness for our
trouble-worn friends. Since the tragedy, Georgia and I had often spoken
of them to one another, but to no one else. We knew that few could
understand them as we did, and we refrained from exposing them to
unnecessary criticism. Anxious as we were to comfort them, it was not
in our power to do more than endeavor again to reach them by letter.
The first was despatched to grandma at Sonoma, the day after the
departure of our guests; and shortly before Christmas I posted one to
grandpa. The former was answered quickly, and so pathetically that
brother Ben offered to take us to Sonoma for a visit in the early
Spring and then to see what could be done for grandma.
The letter to grandpa did not reach him until January 27, 1861, but his
reply left San Quentin by Wells-Fargo Express on the twenty-eighth of
January. It was a brave letter, closing with the following mystifying
paragraph:
Though I may be confined by prison walls, I wish those dear to me to
be happy and joyous as they can, and I trust in God to open a way
for me out of here, when I can see you all; which will make us all
very happy.
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