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diff --git a/2862-h/2862-h.htm b/2862-h/2862-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5948f9e --- /dev/null +++ b/2862-h/2862-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6183 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Twins of Table Mountain, by Bret Harte + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Twins of Table Mountain and Other +Stories, by Bret Harte + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Twins of Table Mountain and Other Stories + +Author: Bret Harte + +Release Date: June 3, 2006 [EBook #2862] +Last Updated: March 4, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bret Harte + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE GREAT DEADWOOD MYSTERY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#sam"> A LEGEND OF SAMMTSTADT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIEWS FROM A GERMAN SPION </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + A CLOUD ON THE MOUNTAIN. + </p> + <p> + They lived on the verge of a vast stony level, upheaved so far above the + surrounding country that its vague outlines, viewed from the nearest + valley, seemed a mere cloud-streak resting upon the lesser hills. The rush + and roar of the turbulent river that washed its eastern base were lost at + that height; the winds that strove with the giant pines that half way + climbed its flanks spent their fury below the summit; for, at variance + with most meteorological speculation, an eternal calm seemed to invest + this serene altitude. The few Alpine flowers seldom thrilled their petals + to a passing breeze; rain and snow fell alike perpendicularly, heavily, + and monotonously over the granite bowlders scattered along its brown + expanse. Although by actual measurement an inconsiderable elevation of the + Sierran range, and a mere shoulder of the nearest white-faced peak that + glimmered in the west, it seemed to lie so near the quiet, passionless + stars, that at night it caught something of their calm remoteness. + </p> + <p> + The articulate utterance of such a locality should have been a whisper; a + laugh or exclamation was discordant; and the ordinary tones of the human + voice on the night of the 15th of May, 1868, had a grotesque incongruity. + </p> + <p> + In the thick darkness that clothed the mountain that night, the human + figure would have been lost, or confounded with the outlines of outlying + bowlders, which at such times took upon themselves the vague semblance of + men and animals. Hence the voices in the following colloquy seemed the + more grotesque and incongruous from being the apparent expression of an + upright monolith, ten feet high, on the right, and another mass of + granite, that, reclining, peeped over the verge. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” + </p> + <p> + “Hello yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “You're late.” + </p> + <p> + “I lost the trail, and climbed up the slide.” + </p> + <p> + Here followed a stumble, the clatter of stones down the mountain-side, and + an oath so very human and undignified that it at once relieved the + bowlders of any complicity of expression. The voices, too, were close + together now, and unexpectedly in quite another locality. + </p> + <p> + “Anything up?” + </p> + <p> + “Looey Napoleon's declared war agin Germany.” + </p> + <p> + “Sho-o-o!” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this exclamation, the interest of the latter speaker was + evidently only polite and perfunctory. What, indeed, were the political + convulsions of the Old World to the dwellers on this serene, isolated + eminence of the New? + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it's so,” continued the first voice. “French Pete and that thar + feller that keeps the Dutch grocery hev hed a row over it; emptied their + six-shooters into each other. The Dutchman's got two balls in his leg, and + the Frenchman's got an onnessary buttonhole in his shirt-buzzum, and hez + caved in.” + </p> + <p> + This concise, local corroboration of the conflict of remote nations, + however confirmatory, did not appear to excite any further interest. Even + the last speaker, now that he was in this calm, dispassionate atmosphere, + seemed to lose his own concern in his tidings, and to have abandoned every + thing of a sensational and lower-worldly character in the pines below. + There were a few moments of absolute silence, and then another stumble. + But now the voices of both speakers were quite patient and philosophical. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, and I'll strike a light,” said the second speaker. “I brought a + lantern along, but I didn't light up. I kem out afore sundown, and you + know how it allers is up yer. I didn't want it, and didn't keer to light + up. I forgot you're always a little dazed and strange-like when you first + come up.” + </p> + <p> + There was a crackle, a flash, and presently a steady glow, which the + surrounding darkness seemed to resent. The faces of the two men thus + revealed were singularly alike. The same thin, narrow outline of jaw and + temple; the same dark, grave eyes; the same brown growth of curly beard + and mustache, which concealed the mouth, and hid what might have been any + individual idiosyncrasy of thought or expression,—showed them to be + brothers, or better known as the “Twins of Table Mountain.” A certain + animation in the face of the second speaker,—the first-comer,—a + certain light in his eye, might have at first distinguished him; but even + this faded out in the steady glow of the lantern, and had no value as a + permanent distinction, for, by the time they had reached the western verge + of the mountain, the two faces had settled into a homogeneous calmness and + melancholy. + </p> + <p> + The vague horizon of darkness, that a few feet from the lantern still + encompassed them, gave no indication of their progress, until their feet + actually trod the rude planks and thatch that formed the roof of their + habitation; for their cabin half burrowed in the mountain, and half clung, + like a swallow's nest, to the side of the deep declivity that terminated + the northern limit of the summit. Had it not been for the windlass of a + shaft, a coil of rope, and a few heaps of stone and gravel, which were the + only indications of human labor in that stony field, there was nothing to + interrupt its monotonous dead level. And, when they descended a dozen + well-worn steps to the door of their cabin, they left the summit, as + before, lonely, silent, motionless, its long level uninterrupted, basking + in the cold light of the stars. + </p> + <p> + The simile of a “nest” as applied to the cabin of the brothers was no mere + figure of speech as the light of the lantern first flashed upon it. The + narrow ledge before the door was strewn with feathers. A suggestion that + it might be the home and haunt of predatory birds was promptly checked by + the spectacle of the nailed-up carcasses of a dozen hawks against the + walls, and the outspread wings of an extended eagle emblazoning the gable + above the door, like an armorial bearing. Within the cabin the walls and + chimney-piece were dazzlingly bedecked with the party-colored wings of + jays, yellow-birds, woodpeckers, kingfishers, and the poly-tinted + wood-duck. Yet in that dry, highly-rarefied atmosphere, there was not the + slightest suggestion of odor or decay. + </p> + <p> + The first speaker hung the lantern upon a hook that dangled from the + rafters, and, going to the broad chimney, kicked the half-dead embers into + a sudden resentful blaze. He then opened a rude cupboard, and, without + looking around, called, “Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + The second speaker turned his head from the open doorway where he was + leaning, as if listening to something in the darkness, and answered + abstractedly,— + </p> + <p> + “Rand!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe you have touched grub to-day!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth grunted out some indifferent reply. + </p> + <p> + “Thar hezen't been a slice cut off that bacon since I left,” continued + Rand, bringing a side of bacon and some biscuits from the cupboard, and + applying himself to the discussion of them at the table. “You're gettin' + off yer feet, Ruth. What's up?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth replied by taking an uninvited seat beside him, and resting his chin + on the palms of his hands. He did not eat, but simply transferred his + inattention from the door to the table. + </p> + <p> + “You're workin' too many hours in the shaft,” continued Rand. “You're + always up to some such d—n fool business when I'm not yer.” + </p> + <p> + “I dipped a little west to-day,” Ruth went on, without heeding the + brotherly remonstrance, “and struck quartz and pyrites.” + </p> + <p> + “Thet's you!—allers dippin' west or east for quartz and the color, + instead of keeping on plumb down to the 'cement'!”* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The local name for gold-bearing alluvial drift,—the bed + of a prehistoric river. +</pre> + <p> + “We've been three years digging for cement,” said Ruth, more in + abstraction than in reproach,—“three years!” + </p> + <p> + “And we may be three years more,—may be only three days. Why, you + couldn't be more impatient if—if—if you lived in a valley.” + </p> + <p> + Delivering this tremendous comparison as an unanswerable climax, Rand + applied himself once more to his repast. Ruth, after a moment's pause, + without speaking or looking up, disengaged his hand from under his chin, + and slid it along, palm uppermost, on the table beside his brother. + Thereupon Rand slowly reached forward his left hand, the right being + engaged in conveying victual to his mouth, and laid it on his brother's + palm. The act was evidently an habitual, half mechanical one; for in a few + moments the hands were as gently disengaged, without comment or + expression. At last Rand leaned back in his chair, laid down his knife and + fork, and, complacently loosening the belt that held his revolver, threw + it and the weapon on his bed. Taking out his pipe, and chipping some + tobacco on the table, he said carelessly, “I came a piece through the + woods with Mornie just now.” + </p> + <p> + The face that Ruth turned upon his brother was very distinct in its + expression at that moment, and quite belied the popular theory that the + twins could not be told apart. “Thet gal,” continued Rand, without looking + up, “is either flighty, or—or suthin',” he added in vague disgust, + pushing the table from him as if it were the lady in question. “Don't tell + me!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's eyes quickly sought his brother's, and were as quickly averted, as + he asked hurriedly, “How?” + </p> + <p> + “What gets me,” continued Rand in a petulant non sequitur, “is that YOU, + my own twin-brother, never lets on about her comin' yer, permiskus like, + when I ain't yer, and you and her gallivantin' and promanadin', and + swoppin' sentiments and mottoes.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth tried to contradict his blushing face with a laugh of worldly + indifference. + </p> + <p> + “She came up yer on a sort of pasear.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!—a short cut to the creek,” interpolated Rand satirically. + </p> + <p> + “Last Tuesday or Wednesday,” continued Ruth, with affected forgetfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in course, Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday! You've so many folks + climbing up this yer mountain to call on ye,” continued the ironical Rand, + “that you disremember; only you remembered enough not to tell me. SHE did. + She took me for you, or pretended to.” + </p> + <p> + The color dropped from Ruth's cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Took you for me?” he asked, with an awkward laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” sneered Rand; “chirped and chattered away about OUR picnic, OUR + nose-gays, and lord knows what! Said she'd keep them blue-jay's wings, and + wear 'em in her hat. Spouted poetry, too,—the same sort o' rot you + get off now and then.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth laughed again, but rather ostentatiously and nervously. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, look yer!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth faced his brother. + </p> + <p> + “What's your little game? Do you mean to say you don't know what thet gal + is? Do you mean to say you don't know thet she's the laughing-stock of the + Ferry; thet her father's a d——d old fool, and her mother's a + drunkard and worse; thet she's got any right to be hanging round yer? You + can't mean to marry her, even if you kalkilate to turn me out to do it, + for she wouldn't live alone with ye up here. 'Tain't her kind. And if I + thought you was thinking of—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Ruth, turning upon his brother quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thet's right! holler; swear and yell, and break things, do! Tear + round!” continued Rand, kicking his boots off in a corner, “just because I + ask you a civil question. That's brotherly,” he added, jerking his chair + away against the side of the cabin, “ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “She's not to blame because her mother drinks, and her father's a + shyster,” said Ruth earnestly and strongly. “The men who make her the + laughing-stock of the Ferry tried to make her something worse, and failed, + and take this sneak's revenge on her. 'Laughing-stock!' Yes, they knew she + could turn the tables on them.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; go on! She's better than me. I know I'm a fratricide, that's + what I am,” said Rand, throwing himself on the upper of the two berths + that formed the bedstead of the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “I've seen her three times,” continued Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “And you've known me twenty years,” interrupted his brother. + </p> + <p> + Ruth turned on his heel, and walked towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “That's right; go on! Why don't you get the chalk?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth made no reply. Rand descended from the bed, and, taking a piece of + chalk from the shelf, drew a line on the floor, dividing the cabin in two + equal parts. + </p> + <p> + “You can have the east half,” he said, as he climbed slowly back into bed. + </p> + <p> + This mysterious rite was the usual termination of a quarrel between the + twins. Each man kept his half of the cabin until the feud was forgotten. + It was the mark of silence and separation, over which no words of + recrimination, argument, or even explanation, were delivered, until it was + effaced by one or the other. This was considered equivalent to apology or + reconciliation, which each were equally bound in honor to accept. + </p> + <p> + It may be remarked that the floor was much whiter at this line of + demarcation, and under the fresh chalk-line appeared the faint evidences + of one recently effaced. + </p> + <p> + Without apparently heeding this potential ceremony, Ruth remained leaning + against the doorway, looking upon the night, the bulk of whose profundity + and blackness seemed to be gathered below him. The vault above was serene + and tranquil, with a few large far-spaced stars; the abyss beneath, + untroubled by sight or sound. Stepping out upon the ledge, he leaned far + over the shelf that sustained their cabin, and listened. A faint + rhythmical roll, rising and falling in long undulations against the + invisible horizon, to his accustomed ears told him the wind was blowing + among the pines in the valley. Yet, mingling with this familiar sound, his + ear, now morbidly acute, seemed to detect a stranger inarticulate murmur, + as of confused and excited voices, swelling up from the mysterious depths + to the stars above, and again swallowed up in the gulfs of silence below. + He was roused from a consideration of this phenomenon by a faint glow + towards the east, which at last brightened, until the dark outline of the + distant walls of the valley stood out against the sky. Were his other + senses participating in the delusion of his ears? for with the brightening + light came the faint odor of burning timber. + </p> + <p> + His face grew anxious as he gazed. At last he rose, and re-entered the + cabin. His eyes fell upon the faint chalk-mark, and, taking his soft felt + hat from his head, with a few practical sweeps of the brim he brushed away + the ominous record of their late estrangement. Going to the bed whereon + Rand lay stretched, open-eyed, he would have laid his hand upon his arm + lightly; but the brother's fingers sought and clasped his own. “Get up,” + he said quietly; “there's a strange fire in the Canyon head that I can't + make out.” + </p> + <p> + Rand slowly clambered from his shelf, and hand in hand the brothers stood + upon the ledge. “It's a right smart chance beyond the Ferry, and a piece + beyond the Mill, too,” said Rand, shading his eyes with his hand, from + force of habit. “It's in the woods where—” He would have added where + he met Mornie; but it was a point of honor with the twins, after + reconciliation, not to allude to any topic of their recent disagreement. + </p> + <p> + Ruth dropped his brother's hand. “It doesn't smell like the woods,” he + said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Smell!” repeated Rand incredulously. “Why, it's twenty miles in a + bee-line yonder. Smell, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth was silent, but presently fell to listening again with his former + abstraction. “You don't hear anything, do you?” he asked after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “It's blowin' in the pines on the river,” said Rand shortly. + </p> + <p> + “You don't hear anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing like—like—like—” + </p> + <p> + Rand, who had been listening with an intensity that distorted the left + side of his face, interrupted him impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Like what?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a woman sobbin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” said Rand, suddenly looking up in his brother's face, “what's gone + of you?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth laughed. “The fire's out,” he said, abruptly re-entering the cabin. + “I'm goin' to turn in.” + </p> + <p> + Rand, following his brother half reproachfully, saw him divest himself of + his clothing, and roll himself in the blankets of his bed. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Randy!” + </p> + <p> + Rand hesitated. He would have liked to ask his brother another question; + but there was clearly nothing to be done but follow his example. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Ruthy!” he said, and put out the light. As he did so, the + glow in the eastern horizon faded, too, and darkness seemed to well up + from the depths below, and, flowing in the open door, wrapped them in + deeper slumber. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + THE CLOUDS GATHER. + </p> + <p> + Twelve months had elapsed since the quarrel and reconciliation, during + which interval no reference was made by either of the brothers to the + cause which had provoked it. Rand was at work in the shaft, Ruth having + that morning undertaken the replenishment of the larder with game from the + wooded skirt of the mountain. Rand had taken advantage of his brother's + absence to “prospect” in the “drift,”—a proceeding utterly at + variance with his previous condemnation of all such speculative essay; but + Rand, despite his assumption of a superior practical nature, was not above + certain local superstitions. Having that morning put on his gray flannel + shirt wrong side out,—an abstraction recognized among the miners as + the sure forerunner of divination and treasure-discovery,—he could + not forego that opportunity of trying his luck, without hazarding a + dangerous example. He was also conscious of feeling “chipper,”—another + local expression for buoyancy of spirit, not common to men who work fifty + feet below the surface, without the stimulus of air and sunshine, and not + to be overlooked as an important factor in fortunate adventure. + Nevertheless, noon came without the discovery of any treasure. He had + attacked the walls on either side of the lateral “drift” skilfully, so as + to expose their quality without destroying their cohesive integrity, but + had found nothing. Once or twice, returning to the shaft for rest and air, + its grim silence had seemed to him pervaded with some vague echo of + cheerful holiday voices above. This set him to thinking of his brother's + equally extravagant fancy of the wailing voices in the air on the night of + the fire, and of his attributing it to a lover's abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “I laid it to his being struck after that gal; and yet,” Rand continued to + himself, “here's me, who haven't been foolin' round no gal, and dog my + skin if I didn't think I heard one singin' up thar!” He put his foot on + the lower round of the ladder, paused, and slowly ascended a dozen steps. + Here he paused again. All at once the whole shaft was filled with the + musical vibrations of a woman's song. Seizing the rope that hung idly from + the windlass, he half climbed, half swung himself, to the surface. + </p> + <p> + The voice was there; but the sudden transition to the dazzling level + before him at first blinded his eyes, so that he took in only by degrees + the unwonted spectacle of the singer,—a pretty girl, standing on + tiptoe on a bowlder not a dozen yards from him, utterly absorbed in tying + a gayly-striped neckerchief, evidently taken from her own plump throat, to + the halliards of a freshly-cut hickory-pole newly reared as a flag-staff + beside her. The hickory-pole, the halliards, the fluttering scarf, the + young lady herself, were all glaring innovations on the familiar + landscape; but Rand, with his hand still on the rope, silently and + demurely enjoyed it. + </p> + <p> + For the better understanding of the general reader, who does not live on + an isolated mountain, it may be observed that the young lady's position on + the rock exhibited some study of POSE, and a certain exaggeration of + attitude, that betrayed the habit of an audience; also that her voice had + an artificial accent that was not wholly unconscious, even in this lofty + solitude. Yet the very next moment, when she turned, and caught Rand's eye + fixed upon her, she started naturally, colored slightly, uttered that + feminine adjuration, “Good Lord! gracious! goodness me!” which is seldom + used in reference to its effect upon the hearer, and skipped instantly + from the bowlder to the ground. Here, however, she alighted in a POSE, + brought the right heel of her neatly-fitting left boot closely into the + hollowed side of her right instep, at the same moment deftly caught her + flying skirt, whipped it around her ankles, and, slightly raising it + behind, permitted the chaste display of an inch or two of frilled white + petticoat. The most irreverent critic of the sex will, I think, admit that + it has some movements that are automatic. + </p> + <p> + “Hope I didn't disturb ye,” said Rand, pointing to the flag-staff. + </p> + <p> + The young lady slightly turned her head. “No,” she said; “but I didn't + know anybody was here, of course. Our PARTY”—she emphasized the + word, and accompanied it with a look toward the further extremity of the + plateau, to show she was not alone—“our party climbed this ridge, + and put up this pole as a sign to show they did it.” The ridiculous + self-complacency of this record in the face of a man who was evidently a + dweller on the mountain apparently struck her for the first time. “We + didn't know,” she stammered, looking at the shaft from which Rand had + emerged, “that—that—” She stopped, and, glancing again towards + the distant range where her friends had disappeared, began to edge away. + </p> + <p> + “They can't be far off,” interposed Rand quietly, as if it were the most + natural thing in the world for the lady to be there. “Table Mountain ain't + as big as all that. Don't you be scared! So you thought nobody lived up + here?” + </p> + <p> + She turned upon him a pair of honest hazel eyes, which not only + contradicted the somewhat meretricious smartness of her dress, but was + utterly inconsistent with the palpable artificial color of her hair,—an + obvious imitation of a certain popular fashion then known in artistic + circles as the “British Blonde,”—and began to ostentatiously resume + a pair of lemon-colored kid gloves. Having, as it were, thus indicated her + standing and respectability, and put an immeasurable distance between + herself and her bold interlocutor, she said impressively, “We evidently + made a mistake: I will rejoin our party, who will, of course, apologize.” + </p> + <p> + “What's your hurry?” said the imperturbable Rand, disengaging himself from + the rope, and walking towards her. “As long as you're up here, you might + stop a spell.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no wish to intrude; that is, our party certainly has not,” + continued the young lady, pulling the tight gloves, and smoothing the + plump, almost bursting fingers, with an affectation of fashionable ease. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I haven't any thing to do just now,” said Rand, “and it's about grub + time, I reckon. Yes, I live here, Ruth and me,—right here.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman glanced at the shaft. + </p> + <p> + “No, not down there,” said Rand, following her eye, with a laugh. “Come + here, and I'll show you.” + </p> + <p> + A strong desire to keep up an appearance of genteel reserve, and an + equally strong inclination to enjoy the adventurous company of this + good-looking, hearty young fellow, made her hesitate. Perhaps she + regretted having undertaken a role of such dignity at the beginning: she + could have been so perfectly natural with this perfectly natural man, + whereas any relaxation now might increase his familiarity. And yet she was + not without a vague suspicion that her dignity and her gloves were alike + thrown away on him,—a fact made the more evident when Rand stepped + to her side, and, without any apparent consciousness of disrespect or + gallantry, laid his large hand, half persuasively, half fraternally, upon + her shoulder, and said, “Oh, come along, do!” + </p> + <p> + The simple act either exceeded the limits of her forbearance, or decided + the course of her subsequent behavior. She instantly stepped back a single + pace, and drew her left foot slowly and deliberately after her; then she + fixed her eyes and uplifted eyebrows upon the daring hand, and, taking it + by the ends of her thumb and forefinger, lifted it, and dropped it in + mid-air. She then folded her arms. It was the indignant gesture with which + “Alice,” the Pride of Dumballin Village, received the loathsome advances + of the bloated aristocrat, Sir Parkyns Parkyn, and had at Marysville, a + few nights before, brought down the house. + </p> + <p> + This effect was, I think, however, lost upon Rand. The slight color that + rose to his cheek as he looked down upon his clay-soiled hands was due to + the belief that he had really contaminated her outward superfine person. + But his color quickly passed: his frank, boyish smile returned, as he + said, “It'll rub off. Lord, don't mind that! Thar, now—come on!” + </p> + <p> + The young woman bit her lip. Then nature triumphed; and she laughed, + although a little scornfully. And then Providence assisted her with the + sudden presentation of two figures, a man and woman, slowly climbing up + over the mountain verge, not far from them. With a cry of “There's Sol, + now!” she forgot her dignity and her confusion, and ran towards them. + </p> + <p> + Rand stood looking after her neat figure, less concerned in the advent of + the strangers than in her sudden caprice. He was not so young and + inexperienced but that he noted certain ambiguities in her dress and + manner: he was by no means impressed by her dignity. But he could not help + watching her as she appeared to be volubly recounting her late interview + to her companions; and, still unconscious of any impropriety or + obtrusiveness, he lounged down lazily towards her. Her humor had evidently + changed; for she turned an honest, pleased face upon him, as she girlishly + attempted to drag the strangers forward. + </p> + <p> + The man was plump and short; unlike the natives of the locality, he was + closely cropped and shaven, as if to keep down the strong blue-blackness + of his beard and hair, which nevertheless asserted itself over his round + cheeks and upper lip like a tattooing of Indian ink. The woman at his side + was reserved and indistinctive, with that appearance of being an + unenthusiastic family servant peculiar to some men's wives. When Rand was + within a few feet of him, he started, struck a theatrical attitude, and, + shading his eyes with his hand, cried, “What, do me eyes deceive me!” + burst into a hearty laugh, darted forward, seized Rand's hand, and shook + it briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Pinkney, Pinkney, my boy! how are you? And this is your little 'prop'? + your quarter-section, your country-seat, that we've been trespassing on, + eh? A nice little spot, cool, sequestered, remote,—a trifle + unimproved; carriage-road as yet unfinished. Ha, ha! But to think of our + making a discovery of this inaccessible mountain, climbing it, sir, for + two mortal hours, christening it 'Sol's Peak,' getting up a flag-pole, + unfurling our standard to the breeze, sir, and then, by Gad, winding up by + finding Pinkney, the festive Pinkney, living on it at home!” + </p> + <p> + Completely surprised, but still perfectly good-humored, Rand shook the + stranger's right hand warmly, and received on his broad shoulders a + welcoming thwack from the left, without question. “She don't mind her + friends making free with ME evidently,” said Rand to himself, as he tried + to suggest that fact to the young lady in a meaning glance. + </p> + <p> + The stranger noted his glance, and suddenly passed his hand thoughtfully + over his shaven cheeks. “No,” he said—“yes, surely, I forget—yes, + I see; of course you don't! Rosy,” turning to his wife, “of course Pinkney + doesn't know Phemie, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor ME either, Sol,” said that lady warningly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” continued Sol. “It's his misfortune. You weren't with me at + Gold Hill.—Allow me,” he said, turning to Rand, “to present Mrs. Sol + Saunders, wife of the undersigned, and Miss Euphemia Neville, otherwise + known as the 'Marysville Pet,' the best variety actress known on the + provincial boards. Played Ophelia at Marysville, Friday; domestic drama at + Gold Hill, Saturday; Sunday night, four songs in character, different + dress each time, and a clog-dance. The best clog-dance on the Pacific + Slope,” he added in a stage aside. “The minstrels are crazy to get her in + 'Frisco. But money can't buy her—prefers the legitimate drama to + this sort of thing.” Here he took a few steps of a jig, to which the + “Marysville Pet” beat time with her feet, and concluded with a laugh and a + wink—the combined expression of an artist's admiration for her + ability, and a man of the world's scepticism of feminine ambition. + </p> + <p> + Miss Euphemia responded to the formal introduction by extending her hand + frankly with a re-assuring smile to Rand, and an utter obliviousness of + her former hauteur. Rand shook it warmly, and then dropped carelessly on a + rock beside them. + </p> + <p> + “And you never told me you lived up here in the attic, you rascal!” + continued Sol with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Rand simply. “How could I? I never saw you before, that I + remember.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Euphemia stared at Sol. Mrs. Sol looked up in her lord's face, and + folded her arms in a resigned expression. Sol rose to his feet again, and + shaded his eyes with his hand, but this time quite seriously, and gazed at + Rand's smiling face. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord! Do you mean to say your name isn't Pinkney?” he asked, with a + half embarrassed laugh. + </p> + <p> + “It IS Pinkney,” said Rand; “but I never met you before.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you come to see a young lady that joined my troupe at Gold Hill + last month, and say you'd meet me at Keeler's Ferry in a day or two?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o-o,” said Rand, with a good-humored laugh. “I haven't left this + mountain for two months.” + </p> + <p> + He might have added more; but his attention was directed to Miss Euphemia, + who during this short dialogue, having stuffed alternately her + handkerchief, the corner of her mantle, and her gloves, into her mouth, + restrained herself no longer, but gave way to an uncontrollable fit of + laughter. “O Sol!” she gasped explanatorily, as she threw herself + alternately against him, Mrs. Sol, and a bowlder, “you'll kill me yet! O + Lord! first we take possession of this man's property, then we claim HIM.” + The contemplation of this humorous climax affected her so that she was + fain at last to walk away, and confide the rest of her speech to space. + </p> + <p> + Sol joined in the laugh until his wife plucked his sleeve, and whispered + something in his ear. In an instant his face became at once mysterious and + demure. “I owe you an apology,” he said, turning to Rand, but in a voice + ostentatiously pitched high enough for Miss Euphemia to overhear: “I see I + have made a mistake. A resemblance—only a mere resemblance, as I + look at you now—led me astray. Of course you don't know any young + lady in the profession?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he doesn't, Sol,” said Miss Euphemia. “I could have told you + that. He didn't even know ME!” + </p> + <p> + The voice and mock-heroic attitude of the speaker was enough to relieve + the general embarrassment with a laugh. Rand, now pleasantly conscious of + only Miss Euphemia's presence, again offered the hospitality of his cabin, + with the polite recognition of her friends in the sentence, “and you might + as well come along too.” + </p> + <p> + “But won't we incommode the lady of the house?” said Mrs. Sol politely. + </p> + <p> + “What lady of the house”? said Rand almost angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ruth, you know!” + </p> + <p> + It was Rand's turn to become hilarious. “Ruth,” he said, “is short for + Rutherford, my brother.” His laugh, however, was echoed only by Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have a brother?” said Mrs. Sol benignly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rand: “he will be here soon.” A sudden thought dropped the + color from his cheek. “Look here,” he said, turning impulsively upon Sol. + “I have a brother, a twin-brother. It couldn't be HIM—” + </p> + <p> + Sol was conscious of a significant feminine pressure on his right arm. He + was equal to the emergency. “I think not,” he said dubiously, “unless your + brother's hair is much darker than yours. Yes! now I look at you, yours is + brown. He has a mole on his right cheek hasn't he?” + </p> + <p> + The red came quickly back to Rand's boyish face. He laughed. “No, sir: my + brother's hair is, if any thing, a shade lighter than mine, and nary mole. + Come along!” + </p> + <p> + And leading the way, Rand disclosed the narrow steps winding down to the + shelf on which the cabin hung. “Be careful,” said Rand, taking the now + unresisting hand of the “Marysville Pet” as they descended: “a step that + way, and down you go two thousand feet on the top of a pine-tree.” + </p> + <p> + But the girl's slight cry of alarm was presently changed to one of + unaffected pleasure as they stood on the rocky platform. “It isn't a + house: it's a NEST, and the loveliest!” said Euphemia breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “It's a scene, a perfect scene, sir!” said Sol, enraptured. “I shall take + the liberty of bringing my scene-painter to sketch it some day. It would + do for 'The Mountaineer's Bride' superbly, or,” continued the little man, + warming through the blue-black border of his face with professional + enthusiasm, “it's enough to make a play itself. 'The Cot on the Crags.' + Last scene—moonlight—the struggle on the ledge! The Lady of + the Crags throws herself from the beetling heights!—A shriek from + the depths—a woman's wail!” + </p> + <p> + “Dry up!” sharply interrupted Rand, to whom this speech recalled his + brother's half-forgotten strangeness. “Look at the prospect.” + </p> + <p> + In the full noon of a cloudless day, beneath them a tumultuous sea of + pines surged, heaved, rode in giant crests, stretched and lost itself in + the ghostly, snow-peaked horizon. The thronging woods choked every defile, + swept every crest, filled every valley with its dark-green tilting spears, + and left only Table Mountain sunlit and bare. Here and there were profound + olive depths, over which the gray hawk hung lazily, and into which blue + jays dipped. A faint, dull yellowish streak marked an occasional + watercourse; a deeper reddish ribbon, the mountain road and its + overhanging murky cloud of dust. + </p> + <p> + “Is it quite safe here?” asked Mrs. Sol, eying the little cabin. “I mean + from storms?” + </p> + <p> + “It never blows up here,” replied Rand, “and nothing happens.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be lovely,” said Euphemia, clasping her hands. + </p> + <p> + “It IS that,” said Rand proudly. “It's four years since Ruth and I took up + this yer claim, and raised this shanty. In that four years we haven't left + it alone a night, or cared to. It's only big enough for two, and them two + must be brothers. It wouldn't do for mere pardners to live here alone,—they + couldn't do it. It wouldn't be exactly the thing for man and wife to shut + themselves up here alone. But Ruth and me know each other's ways, and here + we'll stay until we've made a pile. We sometimes—one of us—takes + a pasear to the Ferry to buy provisions; but we're glad to crawl up to the + back of old 'Table' at night.” + </p> + <p> + “You're quite out of the world here, then?” suggested Mrs. Sol. + </p> + <p> + “That's it, just it! We're out of the world,—out of rows, out of + liquor, out of cards, out of bad company, out of temptation. Cussedness + and foolishness hez got to follow us up here to find us, and there's too + many ready to climb down to them things to tempt 'em to come up to us.” + </p> + <p> + There was a little boyish conceit in his tone, as he stood there, not + altogether unbecoming his fresh color and simplicity. Yet, when his eyes + met those of Miss Euphemia, he colored, he hardly knew why, and the young + lady herself blushed rosily. + </p> + <p> + When the neat cabin, with its decorated walls, and squirrel and wild-cat + skins, was duly admired, the luncheon-basket of the Saunders party was + re-enforced by provisions from Rand's larder, and spread upon the ledge; + the dimensions of the cabin not admitting four. Under the potent influence + of a bottle, Sol became hilarious and professional. The “Pet” was induced + to favor the company with a recitation, and, under the plea of teaching + Rand, to perform the clog-dance with both gentlemen. Then there was an + interval, in which Rand and Euphemia wandered a little way down the + mountain-side to gather laurel, leaving Mr. Sol to his siesta on a rock, + and Mrs. Sol to take some knitting from the basket, and sit beside him. + </p> + <p> + When Rand and his companion had disappeared, Mrs. Sol nudged her sleeping + partner. “Do you think that WAS the brother?” + </p> + <p> + Sol yawned. “Sure of it. They're as like as two peas, in looks.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you tell him so, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me, my dear, why you stopped me when I began?” + </p> + <p> + “Because something was said about Ruth being here; and I supposed Ruth was + a woman, and perhaps Pinkney's wife, and knew you'd be putting your foot + in it by talking of that other woman. I supposed it was for fear of that + he denied knowing you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when HE—this Rand—told me he had a twin-brother, he + looked so frightened that I knew he knew nothing of his brother's doings + with that woman, and I threw him off the scent. He's a good fellow, but + awfully green, and I didn't want to worry him with tales. I like him, and + I think Phemie does too.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! He's a conceited prig! Did you hear his sermon on the world and + its temptations? I wonder if he thought temptation had come up to him in + the person of us professionals out on a picnic. I think it was positively + rude.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear woman, you're always seeing slights and insults. I tell you he's + taken a shine to Phemie; and he's as good as four seats and a bouquet to + that child next Wednesday evening, to say nothing of the eclat of getting + this St. Simeon—what do you call him?—Stalactites?” + </p> + <p> + “Stylites,” suggested Mrs. Sol. + </p> + <p> + “Stylites, off from his pillar here. I'll have a paragraph in the paper, + that the hermit crabs of Table Mountain—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, Sol!” + </p> + <p> + “The hermit twins of Table Mountain bespoke the chaste performance.” + </p> + <p> + “One of them being the protector of the well-known Mornie Nixon,” + responded Mrs. Sol, viciously accenting the name with her + knitting-needles. + </p> + <p> + “Rosy, you're unjust. You're prejudiced by the reports of the town. Mr. + Pinkney's interest in her may be a purely artistic one, although mistaken. + She'll never make a good variety-actress: she's too heavy. And the boys + don't give her a fair show. No woman can make a debut in my version of + 'Somnambula,' and have the front row in the pit say to her in the + sleepwalking scene, 'You're out rather late, Mornie. Kinder forgot to put + on your things, didn't you? Mother sick, I suppose, and you're goin' for + more gin? Hurry along, or you'll ketch it when ye get home.' Why, you + couldn't do it yourself, Rosy!” + </p> + <p> + To which Mrs. Sol's illogical climax was, that, “bad as Rutherford might + be, this Sunday-school superintendent, Rand, was worse.” + </p> + <p> + Rand and his companion returned late, but in high spirits. There was an + unnecessary effusiveness in the way in which Euphemia kissed Mrs. Sol,—the + one woman present, who UNDERSTOOD, and was to be propitiated,—which + did not tend to increase Mrs. Sol's good humor. She had her basket packed + all ready for departure; and even the earnest solicitation of Rand, that + they would defer their going until sunset, produced no effect. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Rand—Mr. Pinkney, I mean—says the sunsets here are so + lovely,” pleaded Euphemia. + </p> + <p> + “There is a rehearsal at seven o'clock, and we have no time to lose,” said + Mrs. Sol significantly. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to say,” said the “Marysville Pet” timidly, glancing at Mrs. + Sol, “that Mr. Rand says he will bring his brother on Wednesday night, and + wants four seats in front, so as not to be crowded.” + </p> + <p> + Sol shook the young man's hand warmly. “You'll not regret it, sir: it's a + surprising, a remarkable performance.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to go a piece down the mountain with you,” said Rand, with + evident sincerity, looking at Miss Euphemia; “but Ruth isn't here yet, and + we make a rule never to leave the place alone. I'll show you the slide: + it's the quickest way to go down. If you meet any one who looks like me, + and talks like me, call him 'Ruth,' and tell him I'm waitin' for him yer.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Phemia, the last to go, standing on the verge of the declivity, here + remarked, with a dangerous smile, that, if she met any one who bore that + resemblance, she might be tempted to keep him with her,—a + playfulness that brought the ready color to Rand's cheek. When she added + to this the greater audacity of kissing her hand to him, the young hermit + actually turned away in sheer embarrassment. When he looked around again, + she was gone, and for the first time in his experience the mountain seemed + barren and lonely. + </p> + <p> + The too sympathetic reader who would rashly deduce from this any newly + awakened sentiment in the virgin heart of Rand would quite misapprehend + that peculiar young man. That singular mixture of boyish inexperience and + mature doubt and disbelief, which was partly the result of his + temperament, and partly of his cloistered life on the mountain, made him + regard his late companions, now that they were gone, and his intimacy with + them, with remorseful distrust. The mountain was barren and lonely, + because it was no longer HIS. It had become a part of the great world, + which four years ago he and his brother had put aside, and in which, as + two self-devoted men, they walked alone. More than that, he believed he + had acquired some understanding of the temptations that assailed his + brother, and the poor little vanities of the “Marysville Pet” were + transformed into the blandishments of a Circe. Rand, who would have + succumbed to a wicked, superior woman, believed he was a saint in + withstanding the foolish weakness of a simple one. + </p> + <p> + He did not resume his work that day. He paced the mountain, anxiously + awaiting his brother's return, and eager to relate his experiences. He + would go with him to the dramatic entertainment; from his example and + wisdom, Ruth should learn how easily temptation might be overcome. But, + first of all, there should be the fullest exchange of confidences and + explanations. The old rule should be rescinded for once, the old + discussion in regard to Mornie re-opened, and Rand, having convinced his + brother of error, would generously extend his forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + The sun sank redly. Lingering long upon the ledge before their cabin, it + at last slipped away almost imperceptibly, leaving Rand still wrapped in + revery. Darkness, the smoke of distant fires in the woods, and the faint + evening incense of the pines, crept slowly up; but Ruth came not. The moon + rose, a silver gleam on the farther ridge; and Rand, becoming uneasy at + his brother's prolonged absence, resolved to break another custom, and + leave the summit, to seek him on the trail. He buckled on his revolvers, + seized his gun, when a cry from the depths arrested him. He leaned over + the ledge, and listened. Again the cry arose, and this time more + distinctly. He held his breath: the blood settled around his heart in + superstitious terror. It was the wailing voice of a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth, Ruth! for God's sake come and help me!” + </p> + <p> + The blood flew back hotly to Rand's cheek. It was Mornie's voice. By + leaning over the ledge, he could distinguish something moving along the + almost precipitous face of the cliff, where an abandoned trail, long since + broken off and disrupted by the fall of a portion of the ledge, stopped + abruptly a hundred feet below him. Rand knew the trail, a dangerous one + always: in its present condition a single mis-step would be fatal. Would + she make that mis-step? He shook off a horrible temptation that seemed to + be sealing his lips, and paralyzing his limbs, and almost screamed to her, + “Drop on your face, hang on to the chaparral, and don't move!” + </p> + <p> + In another instant, with a coil of rope around his arm, he was dashing + down the almost perpendicular “slide.” When he had nearly reached the + level of the abandoned trail, he fastened one end of the rope to a jutting + splinter of granite, and began to “lay out,” and work his way laterally + along the face of the mountain. Presently he struck the regular trail at + the point from which the woman must have diverged. + </p> + <p> + “It is Rand,” she said, without lifting her head. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied Rand coldly. “Pass the rope under your arms, and I'll get + you back to the trail.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Ruth?” she demanded again, without moving. She was trembling, + but with excitement rather than fear. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” returned Rand impatiently. “Come! the ledge is already + crumbling beneath our feet.” + </p> + <p> + “Let it crumble!” said the woman passionately. + </p> + <p> + Rand surveyed her with profound disgust, then passed the rope around her + waist, and half lifted, half swung her from her feet. In a few moments she + began to mechanically help herself, and permitted him to guide her to a + place of safety. That reached, she sank down again. + </p> + <p> + The rising moon shone full upon her face and figure. Through his growing + indignation Rand was still impressed and even startled with the change the + few last months had wrought upon her. In place of the silly, fanciful, + half-hysterical hoyden whom he had known, a matured woman, strong in + passionate self-will, fascinating in a kind of wild, savage beauty, looked + up at him as if to read his very soul. + </p> + <p> + “What are you staring at?” she said finally. “Why don't you help me on?” + </p> + <p> + “Where do you want to go?” said Rand quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Where! Up there!”—she pointed savagely to the top of the mountain,—“to + HIM! Where else should I go?” she said, with a bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I've told you he wasn't there,” said Rand roughly. “He hasn't returned.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll wait for him—do you hear?—wait for him; stay there till + he comes. If you won't help me, I'll go alone.” + </p> + <p> + She made a step forward but faltered, staggered, and was obliged to lean + against the mountain for support. Stains of travel were on her dress; + lines of fatigue and pain, and traces of burning passionate tears, were on + her face; her black hair flowed from beneath her gaudy bonnet; and, shamed + out of his brutality, Rand placed his strong arm round her waist, and half + carrying, half supporting her, began the ascent. Her head dropped wearily + on his shoulder; her arm encircled his neck; her hair, as if caressingly, + lay across his breast and hands; her grateful eyes were close to his; her + breath was upon his cheek: and yet his only consciousness was of the + possibly ludicrous figure he might present to his brother, should he meet + him with Mornie Nixon in his arms. Not a word was spoken by either till + they reached the summit. Relieved at finding his brother still absent, he + turned not unkindly toward the helpless figure on his arm. “I don't see + what makes Ruth so late,” he said. “He's always here by sundown. Perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he knows I'm here,” said Mornie, with a bitter laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say that,” said Rand, “and I don't think it. What I meant was, + he might have met a party that was picnicking here to-day,—Sol. + Saunders and wife, and Miss Euphemia—” + </p> + <p> + Mornie flung his arm away from her with a passionate gesture. “THEY here!—picnicking + HERE!—those people HERE!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Rand, unconsciously a little ashamed. “They came here + accidentally.” + </p> + <p> + Mornie's quick passion had subsided: she had sunk again wearily and + helplessly on a rock beside him. “I suppose,” she said, with a weak laugh—“I + suppose, they talked of ME. I suppose they told you how, with their lies + and fair promises, they tricked me out, and set me before an audience of + brutes and laughing hyenas to make merry over. Did they tell you of the + insults that I received?—how the sins of my parents were flung at me + instead of bouquets? Did they tell you they could have spared me this, but + they wanted the few extra dollars taken in at the door? No!” + </p> + <p> + “They said nothing of the kind,” replied Rand surlily. + </p> + <p> + “Then you must have stopped them. You were horrified enough to know that I + had dared to take the only honest way left me to make a living. I know + you, Randolph Pinkney! You'd rather see Joaquin Muriatta, the Mexican + bandit, standing before you to-night with a revolver, than the helpless, + shamed, miserable Mornie Nixon. And you can't help yourself, unless you + throw me over the cliff. Perhaps you'd better,” she said, with a bitter + laugh that faded from her lips as she leaned, pale and breathless, against + the bowlder. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth will tell you—” began Rand. + </p> + <p> + “D—n Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + Rand turned away. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” she said suddenly, staggering to her feet. “I'm sick—for all + I know, dying. God grant that it may be so! But, if you are a man, you + will help me to your cabin—to some place where I can lie down NOW, + and be at rest. I'm very, very tired.” + </p> + <p> + She paused. She would have fallen again; but Rand, seeing more in her face + than her voice interpreted to his sullen ears, took her sullenly in his + arms, and carried her to the cabin. Her eyes glanced around the bright + party-colored walls, and a faint smile came to her lips as she put aside + her bonnet, adorned with a companion pinion of the bright wings that + covered it. + </p> + <p> + “Which is Ruth's bed?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Rand pointed to it. + </p> + <p> + “Lay me there!” + </p> + <p> + Rand would have hesitated, but, with another look at her face, complied. + </p> + <p> + She lay quite still a moment. Presently she said, “Give me some brandy or + whiskey!” + </p> + <p> + Rand was silent and confused. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” she added half bitterly. “I know you have not that commonest + and cheapest of vices.” + </p> + <p> + She lay quite still again. Suddenly she raised herself partly on her + elbow, and in a strong, firm voice, said, “Rand!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mornie.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are wise and practical, as you assume to be, you will do what I + ask you without a question. If you do it AT ONCE, you may save yourself + and Ruth some trouble, some mortification, and perhaps some remorse and + sorrow. Do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the nearest doctor, and bring him here with you.” + </p> + <p> + “But YOU!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was strong, confident, steady, and patient. “You can safely + leave me until then.” + </p> + <p> + In another moment Rand was plunging down the “slide.” But it was past + midnight when he struggled over the last bowlder up the ascent, dragging + the half-exhausted medical wisdom of Brown's Ferry on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I've been gone long, doctor,” said Rand feverishly, “and she looked SO + death-like when I left. If we should be too late!” + </p> + <p> + The doctor stopped suddenly, lifted his head, and pricked his ears like a + hound on a peculiar scent. “We ARE too late,” he said, with a slight + professional laugh. + </p> + <p> + Indignant and horrified, Rand turned upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said the doctor, lifting his hand. + </p> + <p> + Rand listened, so intently that he heard the familiar moan of the river + below; but the great stony field lay silent before him. And then, borne + across its bare barren bosom, like its own articulation, came faintly the + feeble wail of a new-born babe. + </p> + <p> + III. STORM. + </p> + <p> + The doctor hurried ahead in the darkness. Rand, who had stopped paralyzed + at the ominous sound, started forward again mechanically; but as the cry + arose again more distinctly, and the full significance of the doctor's + words came to him, he faltered, stopped, and, with cheeks burning with + shame and helpless indignation, sank upon a stone beside the shaft, and, + burying his face in his hands, fairly gave way to a burst of boyish tears. + Yet even then the recollection that he had not cried since, years ago, his + mother's dying hands had joined his and Ruth's childish fingers together, + stung him fiercely, and dried his tears in angry heat upon his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + How long he sat there, he remembered not; what he thought, he recalled + not. But the wildest and most extravagant plans and resolves availed him + nothing in the face of this forever desecrated home, and this shameful + culmination of his ambitious life on the mountain. Once he thought of + flight; but the reflection that he would still abandon his brother to + shame, perhaps a self-contented shame, checked him hopelessly. Could he + avert the future? He MUST; but how? Yet he could only sit and stare into + the darkness in dumb abstraction. + </p> + <p> + Sitting there, his eyes fell upon a peculiar object in a crevice of the + ledge beside the shaft. It was the tin pail containing his dinner, which, + according to their custom, it was the duty of the brother who staid above + ground to prepare and place for the brother who worked below. Ruth must, + consequently, have put it there before he left that morning, and Rand had + overlooked it while sharing the repast of the strangers at noon. At the + sight of this dumb witness of their mutual cares and labors, Rand sighed, + half in brotherly sorrow, half in a selfish sense of injury done him. + </p> + <p> + He took up the pail mechanically, removed its cover, and—started; + for on top of the carefully bestowed provisions lay a little note, + addressed to him in Ruth's peculiar scrawl. + </p> + <p> + He opened it with feverish hands, held it in the light of the peaceful + moon, and read as follows: + </p> + <p> + DEAR, DEAR BROTHER,—When you read this, I shall be far away. I go + because I shall not stay to disgrace you, and because the girl that I + brought trouble upon has gone away too, to hide her disgrace and mine; and + where she goes, Rand, I ought to follow her, and, please God, I will! I am + not as wise or as good as you are, but it seems the best I can do; and God + bless you, dear old Randy, boy! Times and times again I've wanted to tell + you all, and reckoned to do so; but whether you was sitting before me in + the cabin, or working beside me in the drift, I couldn't get to look upon + your honest face, dear brother, and say what things I'd been keeping from + you so long. I'll stay away until I've done what I ought to do, and if you + can say, “Come, Ruth,” I will come; but, until you can say it, the + mountain is yours, Randy, boy, the mine is yours, the cabin is yours, ALL + is yours. Rub out the old chalk-marks, Rand, as I rub them out here in my—[A + few words here were blurred and indistinct, as if the moon had suddenly + become dim-eyed too]. God bless you, brother! + </p> + <p> + P.S.—You know I mean Mornie all the time. It's she I'm going to + seek; but don't you think so bad of her as you do, I am so much worse than + she. I wanted to tell you that all along, but I didn't dare. She's run + away from the Ferry half crazy; said she was going to Sacramento, and I am + going there to find her alive or dead. Forgive me, brother! Don't throw + this down right away; hold it in your hand a moment, Randy, boy, and try + hard to think it's my hand in yours. And so good-by, and God bless you, + old Randy! + </p> + <p> + From your loving brother, + </p> + <p> + RUTH. + </p> + <p> + A deep sense of relief overpowered every other feeling in Rand's breast. + It was clear that Ruth had not yet discovered the truth of Mornie's + flight: he was on his way to Sacramento, and before he could return, + Mornie could be removed. Once despatched in some other direction, with + Ruth once more returned and under his brother's guidance, the separation + could be made easy and final. There was evidently no marriage as yet; and + now, the fear of an immediate meeting over, there should be none. For Rand + had already feared this; had recalled the few infelicitous relations, + legal and illegal, which were common to the adjoining camp,—the + flagrantly miserable life of the husband of a San Francisco anonyma who + lived in style at the Ferry, the shameful carousals and more shameful + quarrels of the Frenchman and Mexican woman who “kept house” at “the + Crossing,” the awful spectacle of the three half-bred Indian children who + played before the cabin of a fellow miner and townsman. Thank Heaven, the + Eagle's Nest on Table Mountain should never be pointed at from the valley + as another— + </p> + <p> + A heavy hand upon his arm brought him trembling to his feet. He turned, + and met the half-anxious, half-contemptuous glance of the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry to disturb you,” he said dryly; “but it's about time you or + somebody else put in an appearance at that cabin. Luckily for HER, she's + one woman in a thousand; has had her wits about her better than some folks + I know, and has left me little to do but make her comfortable. But she's + gone through too much,—fought her little fight too gallantly,—is + altogether too much of a trump to be played off upon now. So rise up out + of that, young man, pick up your scattered faculties, and fetch a woman—some + sensible creature of her own sex—to look after her; for, without + wishing to be personal, I'm d——d if I trust her to the likes + of you.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking Dr. Duchesne' s voice and manner; and Rand was + affected by it, as most people were throughout the valley of the + Stanislaus. But he turned upon him his frank and boyish face, and said + simply, “But I don't know any woman, or where to get one.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor looked at him again. “Well, I'll find you some one,” he said, + softening. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” said Rand. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was disappearing. With an effort Rand recalled him. “One + moment, doctor.” He hesitated, and his cheeks were glowing. “You'll please + say nothing about this down there”—he pointed to the valley—“for + a time. And you'll say to the woman you send—” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Duchesne, whose resolute lips were sealed upon the secrets of half + Tuolumne County, interrupted him scornfully. “I cannot answer for the + woman—you must talk to her yourself. As for me, generally I keep my + professional visits to myself; but—” he laid his hand on Rand's arm—“if + I find out you're putting on any airs to that poor creature, if, on my + next visit, her lips or her pulse tell me you haven't been acting on the + square to her, I'll drop a hint to drunken old Nixon where his daughter is + hidden. I reckon she could stand his brutality better than yours. + Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + In another moment he was gone. Rand, who had held back his quick tongue, + feeling himself in the power of this man, once more alone, sank on a rock, + and buried his face in his hands. Recalling himself in a moment, he rose, + wiped his hot eyelids, and staggered toward the cabin. It was quite still + now. He paused on the topmost step, and listened: there was no sound from + the ledge, or the Eagle's Nest that clung to it. Half timidly he descended + the winding steps, and paused before the door of the cabin. “Mornie,” he + said, in a dry, metallic voice, whose only indication of the presence of + sickness was in the lowness of its pitch,—“Mornie!” There was no + reply. “Mornie,” he repeated impatiently, “it's me,—Rand. If you + want anything, you're to call me. I am just outside.” Still no answer came + from the silent cabin. He pushed open the door gently, hesitated, and + stepped over the threshold. + </p> + <p> + A change in the interior of the cabin within the last few hours showed a + new presence. The guns, shovels, picks, and blankets had disappeared; the + two chairs were drawn against the wall, the table placed by the bedside. + The swinging-lantern was shaded towards the bed,—the object of + Rand's attention. On that bed, his brother's bed, lay a helpless woman, + pale from the long black hair that matted her damp forehead, and clung to + her hollow cheeks. Her face was turned to the wall, so that the softened + light fell upon her profile, which to Rand at that moment seemed even + noble and strong. But the next moment his eye fell upon the shoulder and + arm that lay nearest to him, and the little bundle, swathed in flannel, + that it clasped to her breast. His brow grew dark as he gazed. The + sleeping woman moved. Perhaps it was an instinctive consciousness of his + presence; perhaps it was only the current of cold air from the opened + door: but she shuddered slightly, and, still unconscious, drew the child + as if away from HIM, and nearer to her breast. The shamed blood rushed to + Rand's face; and saying half aloud, “I'm not going to take your precious + babe away from you,” he turned in half-boyish pettishness away. + Nevertheless he came back again shortly to the bedside, and gazed upon + them both. She certainly did look altogether more ladylike, and less + aggressive, lying there so still: sickness, that cheap refining process of + some natures, was not unbecoming to her. But this bundle! A boyish + curiosity, stronger than even his strong objection to the whole episode, + was steadily impelling him to lift the blanket from it. “I suppose she'd + waken if I did,” said Rand; “but I'd like to know what right the doctor + had to wrap it up in my best flannel shirt.” This fresh grievance, the + fruit of his curiosity, sent him away again to meditate on the ledge. + After a few moments he returned again, opened the cupboard at the foot of + the bed softly, took thence a piece of chalk, and scrawled in large + letters upon the door of the cupboard, “If you want anything, sing out: + I'm just outside.—RAND.” This done, he took a blanket and bear-skin + from the corner, and walked to the door. But here he paused, looked back + at the inscription (evidently not satisfied with it), returned, took up + the chalk, added a line, but rubbed it out again, repeated this operation + a few times until he produced the polite postscript,—“Hope you'll be + better soon.” Then he retreated to the ledge, spread the bear-skin beside + the door, and, rolling himself in a blanket, lit his pipe for his + night-long vigil. But Rand, although a martyr, a philosopher, and a + moralist, was young. In less than ten minutes the pipe dropped from his + lips, and he was asleep. + </p> + <p> + He awoke with a strange sense of heat and suffocation, and with difficulty + shook off his covering. Rubbing his eyes, he discovered that an extra + blanket had in some mysterious way been added in the night; and beneath + his head was a pillow he had no recollection of placing there when he went + to sleep. By degrees the events of the past night forced themselves upon + his benumbed faculties, and he sat up. The sun was riding high; the door + of the cabin was open. Stretching himself, he staggered to his feet, and + looked in through the yawning crack at the hinges. He rubbed his eyes + again. Was he still asleep, and followed by a dream of yesterday? For + there, even in the very attitude he remembered to have seen her sitting at + her luncheon on the previous day, with her knitting on her lap, sat Mrs. + Sol Saunders! What did it mean? or had she really been sitting there ever + since, and all the events that followed only a dream? + </p> + <p> + A hand was laid upon his arm; and, turning, he saw the murky black eyes + and Indian-inked beard of Sol beside him. That gentleman put his finger on + his lips with a theatrical gesture, and then, slowly retreating in the + well-known manner of the buried Majesty of Denmark, waved him, like + another Hamlet, to a remoter part of the ledge. This reached, he grasped + Rand warmly by the hand, shook it heartily, and said, “It's all right, my + boy; all right!” + </p> + <p> + “But—” began Rand. The hot blood flowed to his cheeks: he stammered, + and stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, I say! Don't you mind! We'll pull you through.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mrs. Sol! what does she—” + </p> + <p> + “Rosey has taken the matter in hand, sir; and when that woman takes a + matter in hand, whether it's a baby or a rehearsal, sir, she makes it + buzz.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did she know?” stammered Rand. + </p> + <p> + “How? Well, sir, the scene opened something like this,” said Sol + professionally. “Curtain rises on me and Mrs. Sol. Domestic interior: + practicable chairs, table, books, newspapers. Enter Dr. Duchesne,—eccentric + character part, very popular with the boys,—tells off-hand affecting + story of strange woman—one 'more unfortunate'—having baby in + Eagle's Nest, lonely place on 'peaks of Snowdon,' midnight; eagles + screaming, you know, and far down unfathomable depths; only attendant, + cold-blooded ruffian, evidently father of child, with sinister designs on + child and mother.” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't say THAT!” said Rand, with an agonized smile. + </p> + <p> + “Order! Sit down in front!” continued Sol easily. “Mrs. Sol—highly + interested, a mother herself—demands name of place. 'Table + Mountain.' No; it cannot be—it is! Excitement. Mystery! Rosey rises + to occasion—comes to front: 'Some one must go; I—I—will + go myself!' Myself, coming to center: 'Not alone, dearest; I—I will + accompany you!' A shriek at right upper center. Enter the 'Marysville + Pet.' 'I have heard all. 'Tis a base calumny. It cannot be HE—Randolph! + Never!'—'Dare you accompany us will!' Tableau. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Euphemia—here?” gasped Rand, practical even in his + embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Or-r-rder! Scene second. Summit of mountain—moonlight Peaks of + Snowdon in distance. Right—lonely cabin. Enter slowly up defile, + Sol, Mrs. Sol, the 'Pet.' Advance slowly to cabin. Suppressed shriek from + the 'Pet,' who rushes to recumbent figure—Left—discovered + lying beside cabin-door. ''Tis he! Hist! he sleeps!' Throws blanket over + him, and retires up stage—so.” Here Sol achieved a vile imitation of + the “Pet's” most enchanting stage-manner. “Mrs. Sol advances—Center—throws + open door. Shriek! ''Tis Mornie, the lost found!' The 'Pet' advances: 'And + the father is?'—'Not Rand!' The 'Pet' kneeling: 'Just Heaven, I + thank thee!' No, it is—'” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Rand appealingly, looking toward the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “Hush it is!” said the actor good-naturedly. “But it's all right, Mr. + Rand: we'll pull you through.” + </p> + <p> + Later in the morning, Rand learned that Mornie's ill-fated connection with + the Star Variety Troupe had been a source of anxiety to Mrs. Sol, and she + had reproached herself for the girl's infelicitous debut. + </p> + <p> + “But, Lord bless you, Mr. Rand!” said Sol, “it was all in the way of + business. She came to us—was fresh and new. Her chance, looking at + it professionally, was as good as any amateur's; but what with her + relations here, and her bein' known, she didn't take. We lost money on + her! It's natural she should feel a little ugly. We all do when we get + sorter kicked back onto ourselves, and find we can't stand alone. Why, you + wouldn't believe it,” he continued, with a moist twinkle of his black + eyes; “but the night I lost my little Rosey, of diphtheria in Gold Hill, + the child was down on the bills for a comic song; and I had to drag Mrs. + Sol on, cut up as she was, and filled up with that much of Old Bourbon to + keep her nerves stiff, so she could do an old gag with me to gain time, + and make up the 'variety.' Why, sir, when I came to the front, I was ugly! + And when one of the boys in the front row sang out, 'Don't expose that + poor child to the night air, Sol,'—meaning Mrs. Sol,—I acted + ugly. No, sir, it's human nature; and it was quite natural that Mornie, + when she caught sight o' Mrs. Sol's face last night, should rise up and + cuss us both. Lord, if she'd only acted like that! But the old lady got + her quiet at last; and, as I said before, it's all right, and we'll pull + her through. But don't YOU thank us: it's a little matter betwixt us and + Mornie. We've got everything fixed, so that Mrs. Sol can stay right along. + We'll pull Mornie through, and get her away from this, and her baby too, + as soon as we can. You won't get mad if I tell you something?” said Sol, + with a half-apologetic laugh. “Mrs. Sol was rather down on you the other + day, hated you on sight, and preferred your brother to you; but when she + found he'd run off and left YOU, you,—don't mind my sayin',—a + 'mere boy,' to take what oughter be HIS place, why, she just wheeled round + agin' him. I suppose he got flustered, and couldn't face the music. Never + left a word of explanation? Well, it wasn't exactly square, though I tell + the old woman it's human nature. He might have dropped a hint where he was + goin'. Well, there, I won't say a word more agin' him. I know how you + feel. Hush it is.” + </p> + <p> + It was the firm conviction of the simple-minded Sol that no one knew the + various natural indications of human passion better than himself. Perhaps + it was one of the fallacies of his profession that the expression of all + human passion was limited to certain conventional signs and sounds. + Consequently, when Rand colored violently, became confused, stammered, and + at last turned hastily away, the good-hearted fellow instantly recognized + the unfailing evidence of modesty and innocence embarrassed by + recognition. As for Rand, I fear his shame was only momentary. Confirmed + in the belief of his ulterior wisdom and virtue, his first embarrassment + over, he was not displeased with this halfway tribute, and really believed + that the time would come when Mr. Sol should eventually praise his + sagacity and reservation, and acknowledge that he was something more than + a mere boy. He, nevertheless, shrank from meeting Mornie that morning, and + was glad that the presence of Mrs. Sol relieved him from that duty. + </p> + <p> + The day passed uneventfully. Rand busied himself in his usual avocations, + and constructed a temporary shelter for himself and Sol beside the shaft, + besides rudely shaping a few necessary articles of furniture for Mrs. Sol. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a little spell yet afore Mornie's able to be moved,” suggested + Sol, “and you might as well be comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Rand sighed at this prospect, yet presently forgot himself in the good + humor of his companion, whose admiration for himself he began to + patronizingly admit. There was no sense of degradation in accepting the + friendship of this man who had traveled so far, seen so much, and yet, as + a practical man of the world, Rand felt was so inferior to himself. The + absence of Miss Euphemia, who had early left the mountain, was a source of + odd, half-definite relief. Indeed, when he closed his eyes to rest that + night, it was with a sense that the reality of his situation was not as + bad as he had feared. Once only, the figure of his brother—haggard, + weary, and footsore, on his hopeless quest, wandering in lonely trails and + lonelier settlements—came across his fancy; but with it came the + greater fear of his return, and the pathetic figure was banished. “And, + besides, he's in Sacramento by this time, and like as not forgotten us + all,” he muttered; and, twining this poppy and mandragora around his + pillow, he fell asleep. + </p> + <p> + His spirits had quite returned the next morning, and once or twice he + found himself singing while at work in the shaft. The fear that Ruth might + return to the mountain before he could get rid of Mornie, and the slight + anxiety that had grown upon him to know something of his brother's + movements, and to be able to govern them as he wished, caused him to hit + upon the plan of constructing an ingenious advertisement to be published + in the San Francisco journals, wherein the missing Ruth should be advised + that news of his quest should be communicated to him by “a friend,” + through the same medium, after an interval of two weeks. Full of this + amiable intention, he returned to the surface to dinner. Here, to his + momentary confusion, he met Miss Euphemia, who, in absence of Sol, was + assisting Mrs. Sol in the details of the household. + </p> + <p> + If the honest frankness with which that young lady greeted him was not + enough to relieve his embarrassment, he would have forgotten it in the + utterly new and changed aspect she presented. Her extravagant + walking-costume of the previous day was replaced by some bright calico, a + little white apron, and a broad-brimmed straw-hat, which seemed to Rand, + in some odd fashion, to restore her original girlish simplicity. The + change was certainly not unbecoming to her. If her waist was not as + tightly pinched, a la mode, there still was an honest, youthful plumpness + about it; her step was freer for the absence of her high-heel boots; and + even the hand she extended to Rand, if not quite so small as in her tight + gloves, and a little brown from exposure, was magnetic in its strong, + kindly grasp. There was perhaps a slight suggestion of the practical Mr. + Sol in her wholesome presence; and Rand could not help wondering if Mrs. + Sol had ever been a Gold Hill “Pet” before her marriage with Mr. Sol. The + young girl noticed his curious glance. + </p> + <p> + “You never saw me in my rehearsal dress before,” she said, with a laugh. + “But I'm not 'company' to-day, and didn't put on my best harness to knock + round in. I suppose I look dreadful.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you look bad,” said Rand simply. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Euphemia, with a laugh and a courtesy. “But this isn't + getting the dinner.” + </p> + <p> + As part of that operation evidently was the taking-off of her hat, the + putting-up of some thick blond locks that had escaped, and the rolling-up + of her sleeves over a pair of strong, rounded arms, Rand lingered near + her. All trace of the “Pet's” previous professional coquetry was gone,—perhaps + it was only replaced by a more natural one; but as she looked up, and + caught sight of Rand's interested face, she laughed again, and colored a + little. Slight as was the blush, it was sufficient to kindle a sympathetic + fire in Rand's own cheeks, which was so utterly unexpected to him that he + turned on his heel in confusion. “I reckon she thinks I'm soft and silly, + like Ruth,” he soliloquized, and, determining not to look at her again, + betook himself to a distant and contemplative pipe. In vain did Miss + Euphemia address herself to the ostentatious getting of the dinner in full + view of him; in vain did she bring the coffee-pot away from the fire, and + nearer Rand, with the apparent intention of examining its contents in a + better light; in vain, while wiping a plate, did she, absorbed in the + distant prospect, walk to the verge of the mountain, and become statuesque + and forgetful. The sulky young gentleman took no outward notice of her. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sol's attendance upon Mornie prevented her leaving the cabin, and + Rand and Miss Euphemia dined in the open air alone. The ridiculousness of + keeping up a formal attitude to his solitary companion caused Rand to + relax; but, to his astonishment, the “Pet” seemed to have become + correspondingly distant and formal. After a few moments of discomfort, + Rand, who had eaten little, arose, and “believed he would go back to + work.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” said the “Pet,” with an indifferent air, “I suppose you must. + Well, good-by, Mr. Pinkney.” + </p> + <p> + Rand turned. “YOU are not going?” he asked, in some uneasiness. + </p> + <p> + “I'VE got some work to do too,” returned Miss Euphemia a little curtly. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said the practical Rand, “I thought you allowed that you were fixed + to stay until to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + But here Miss Euphemia, with rising color and slight acerbity of voice, + was not aware that she was “fixed to stay” anywhere, least of all when she + was in the way. More than that, she MUST say—although perhaps it + made no difference, and she ought not to say it—that she was not in + the habit of intruding upon gentlemen who plainly gave her to understand + that her company was not desirable. She did not know why she said this—of + course it could make no difference to anybody who didn't, of course, care—but + she only wanted to say that she only came here because her dear friend, + her adopted mother,—and a better woman never breathed,—had + come, and had asked her to stay. Of course, Mrs. Sol was an intruder + herself—Mr. Sol was an intruder—they were all intruders: she + only wondered that Mr. Pinkney had borne with them so long. She knew it + was an awful thing to be here, taking care of a poor—poor, helpless + woman; but perhaps Mr. Rand's BROTHER might forgive them, if he couldn't. + But no matter, she would go—Mr. Sol would go—ALL would go; and + then, perhaps, Mr, Rand— + </p> + <p> + She stopped breathless; she stopped with the corner of her apron against + her tearful hazel eyes; she stopped with—what was more remarkable + than all—Rand's arm actually around her waist, and his astonished, + alarmed face within a few inches of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Miss Euphemia, Phemie, my dear girl! I never meant anything like + THAT,” said Rand earnestly. “I really didn't now! Come now!” + </p> + <p> + “You never once spoke to me when I sat down,” said Miss Euphemia, feebly + endeavoring to withdraw from Rand's grasp. + </p> + <p> + “I really didn't! Oh, come now, look here! I didn't! Don't! There's a dear—THERE!” + </p> + <p> + This last conclusive exposition was a kiss. Miss Euphemia was not quick + enough to release herself from his arms. He anticipated that act a full + half-second, and had dropped his own, pale and breathless. + </p> + <p> + The girl recovered herself first. “There, I declare, I'm forgetting Mrs. + Sol's coffee!” she exclaimed hastily, and, snatching up the coffee-pot, + disappeared. When she returned, Rand was gone. Miss Euphemia busied + herself demurely in clearing up the dishes, with the tail of her eye + sweeping the horizon of the summit level around her. But no Rand appeared. + Presently she began to laugh quietly to herself. This occurred several + times during her occupation, which was somewhat prolonged. The result of + this meditative hilarity was summed up in a somewhat grave and thoughtful + deduction as she walked slowly back to the cabin: “I do believe I'm the + first woman that that boy ever kissed.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Euphemia staid that day and the next, and Rand forgot his + embarrassment. By what means I know not, Miss Euphemia managed to restore + Rand's confidence in himself and in her, and in a little ramble on the + mountain-side got him to relate, albeit somewhat reluctantly, the + particulars of his rescue of Mornie from her dangerous position on the + broken trail. + </p> + <p> + “And, if you hadn't got there as soon as you did, she'd have fallen?” + asked the “Pet.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” returned Rand gloomily: “she was sorter dazed and crazed + like.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saved her life?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, if you put it that way,” said Rand sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “But how did you get her up the mountain again?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I got her up,” returned Rand moodily. + </p> + <p> + “But how? Really, Mr. Rand, you don't know how interesting this is. It's + as good as a play,” said the “Pet,” with a little excited laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I carried her up!” + </p> + <p> + “In your arms?” + </p> + <p> + “Y-e-e-s.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Euphemia paused, and bit off the stalk of a flower, made a wry face, + and threw it away from her in disgust. + </p> + <p> + Then she dug a few tiny holes in the earth with her parasol, and buried + bits of the flower-stalk in them, as if they had been tender memories. “I + suppose you knew Mornie very well?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I used to run across her in the woods,” responded Rand shortly, “a year + ago. I didn't know her so well then as—” He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “As what? As NOW?” asked the “Pet” abruptly. Rand, who was coloring over + his narrow escape from a topic which a delicate kindness of Sol had + excluded from their intercourse on the mountain, stammered, “as YOU do, I + meant.” + </p> + <p> + The “Pet” tossed her head a little. “Oh! I don't know her at all—except + through Sol.” + </p> + <p> + Rand stared hard at this. The “Pet,” who was looking at him intently, + said, “Show me the place where you saw Mornie clinging that night.” + </p> + <p> + “It's dangerous,” suggested Rand. + </p> + <p> + “You mean I'd be afraid! Try me! I don't believe she was SO dreadfully + frightened!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Rand, in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—because—” + </p> + <p> + Rand sat down in vague wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “Show it to me,” continued the “Pet,” “or—I'll find it ALONE!” + </p> + <p> + Thus challenged, he rose, and, after a few moments' climbing, stood with + her upon the trail. “You see that thorn-bush where the rock has fallen + away. It was just there. It is not safe to go farther. No, really! Miss + Euphemia! Please don't! It's almost certain death!” + </p> + <p> + But the giddy girl had darted past him, and, face to the wall of the + cliff, was creeping along the dangerous path. Rand followed mechanically. + Once or twice the trail crumbled beneath her feet; but she clung to a + projecting root of chaparral, and laughed. She had almost reached her + elected goal, when, slipping, the treacherous chaparral she clung to + yielded in her grasp, and Rand, with a cry, sprung forward. + </p> + <p> + But the next instant she quickly transferred her hold to a cleft in the + cliff, and was safe. Not so her companion. The soil beneath him, loosened + by the impulse of his spring, slipped away: he was falling with it, when + she caught him sharply with her disengaged hand, and together they + scrambled to a more secure footing. + </p> + <p> + “I could have reached it alone,” said the “Pet,” “if you'd left me alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank Heaven, we're saved!” said Rand gravely. + </p> + <p> + “AND WITHOUT A ROPE,” said Miss Euphemia significantly. + </p> + <p> + Rand did not understand her. But, as they slowly returned to the summit, + he stammered out the always difficult thanks of a man who has been + physically helped by one of the weaker sex. Miss Euphemia was quick to see + her error. + </p> + <p> + “I might have made you lose your footing by catching at you,” she said + meekly. “But I was so frightened for you, and could not help it.” + </p> + <p> + The superior animal, thoroughly bamboozled, thereupon complimented her on + her dexterity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's nothing!” she said, with a sigh. “I used to do the + flying-trapeze business with papa when I was a child, and I've not + forgotten it.” With this and other confidences of her early life, in which + Rand betrayed considerable interest, they beguiled the tedious ascent. “I + ought to have made you carry me up,” said the lady, with a little laugh, + when they reached the summit; “but you haven't known me as long as you + have Mornie, have you?” With this mysterious speech she bade Rand + “good-night,” and hurried off to the cabin. + </p> + <p> + And so a week passed by,—the week so dreaded by Rand, yet passed so + pleasantly, that at times it seemed as if that dread were only a trick of + his fancy, or as if the circumstances that surrounded him were different + from what he believed them to be. On the seventh day the doctor had staid + longer than usual; and Rand, who had been sitting with Euphemia on the + ledge by the shaft, watching the sunset, had barely time to withdraw his + hand from hers, as Mrs. Sol, a trifle pale and wearied-looking, approached + him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like to trouble you,” she said,—indeed, they had seldom + troubled him with the details of Mornie's convalescence, or even her needs + and requirements,—“but the doctor is alarmed about Mornie, and she + has asked to see you. I think you'd better go in and speak to her. You + know,” continued Mrs. Sol delicately, “you haven't been in there since the + night she was taken sick, and maybe a new face might do her good.” + </p> + <p> + The guilty blood flew to Rand's face as he stammered, “I thought I'd be in + the way. I didn't believe she cared much to see me. Is she worse?” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor is looking very anxious,” said Mrs. Sol simply. + </p> + <p> + The blood returned from Rand's face, and settled around his heart. He + turned very pale. He had consoled himself always for his complicity in + Ruth's absence, that he was taking good care of Mornie, or—what is + considered by most selfish natures an equivalent—permitting or + encouraging some one else to “take good care of her;” but here was a + contingency utterly unforeseen. It did not occur to him that this “taking + good care” of her could result in anything but a perfect solution of her + troubles, or that there could be any future to her condition but one of + recovery. But what if she should die? A sudden and helpless sense of his + responsibility to Ruth, to HER, brought him trembling to his feet. + </p> + <p> + He hurried to the cabin, where Mrs. Sol left him with a word of caution: + “You'll find her changed and quiet,—very quiet. If I was you, I + wouldn't say anything to bring back her old self.” + </p> + <p> + The change which Rand saw was so great, the face that was turned to him so + quiet, that, with a new fear upon him, he would have preferred the savage + eyes and reckless mien of the old Mornie whom he hated. With his habitual + impulsiveness he tried to say something that should express that fact not + unkindly, but faltered, and awkwardly sank into the chair by her bedside. + </p> + <p> + “I don't wonder you stare at me now,” she said in a far-off voice. “It + seems to you strange to see me lying here so quiet. You are thinking how + wild I was when I came here that night. I must have been crazy, I think. I + dreamed that I said dreadful things to you; but you must forgive me, and + not mind it. I was crazy then.” She stopped, and folded the blanket + between her thin fingers. “I didn't ask you to come here to tell you that, + or to remind you of it; but—but when I was crazy, I said so many + worse, dreadful things of HIM; and you—YOU will be left behind to + tell him of it.” + </p> + <p> + Rand was vaguely murmuring something to the effect that “he knew she + didn't mean anything,” that “she musn't think of it again,” that “he'd + forgotten all about it,” when she stopped him with a tired gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I was wrong to think, that, after I am gone, you would care to + tell him anything. Perhaps I'm wrong to think of it at all, or to care + what he will think of me, except for the sake of the child—his + child, Rand—that I must leave behind me. He will know that IT never + abused him. No, God bless its sweet heart! IT never was wild and wicked + and hateful, like its cruel, crazy mother. And he will love it; and you, + perhaps, will love it too—just a little, Rand! Look at it!” She + tried to raise the helpless bundle beside her in her arms, but failed. + “You must lean over,” she said faintly to Rand. “It looks like him, + doesn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Rand, with wondering, embarrassed eyes, tried to see some resemblance, in + the little blue-red oval, to the sad, wistful face of his brother, which + even then was haunting him from some mysterious distance. He kissed the + child's forehead, but even then so vaguely and perfunctorily, that the + mother sighed, and drew it closer to her breast. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor says,” she continued in a calmer voice, “that I'm not doing as + well as I ought to. I don't think,” she faltered, with something of her + old bitter laugh, “that I'm ever doing as well as I ought to, and perhaps + it's not strange now that I don't. And he says that, in case anything + happens to me, I ought to look ahead. I have looked ahead. It's a dark + look ahead, Rand—a horror of blackness, without kind faces, without + the baby, without—without HIM!” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face away, and laid it on the bundle by her side. It was so + quiet in the cabin, that, through the open door beyond, the faint, + rhythmical moan of the pines below was distinctly heard. + </p> + <p> + “I know it's foolish; but that is what 'looking ahead' always meant to + me,” she said, with a sigh. “But, since the doctor has been gone, I've + talked to Mrs. Sol, and find it's for the best. And I look ahead, and see + more clearly. I look ahead, and see my disgrace removed far away from HIM + and you. I look ahead, and see you and HE living together happily, as you + did before I came between you. I look ahead, and see my past life + forgotten, my faults forgiven; and I think I see you both loving my baby, + and perhaps loving me a little for its sake. Thank you, Rand, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + For Rand's hand had caught hers beside the pillow, and he was standing + over her, whiter than she. Something in the pressure of his hand + emboldened her to go on, and even lent a certain strength to her voice. + </p> + <p> + “When it comes to THAT, Rand, you'll not let these people take the baby + away. You'll keep it HERE with you until HE comes. And something tells me + that he will come when I am gone. You'll keep it here in the pure air and + sunlight of the mountain, and out of those wicked depths below; and when I + am gone, and they are gone, and only you and Ruth and baby are here, maybe + you'll think that it came to you in a cloud on the mountain,—a cloud + that lingered only long enough to drop its burden, and faded, leaving the + sunlight and dew behind. What is it, Rand? What are you looking at?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking,” said Rand in a strange altered voice, “that I must + trouble you to let me take down those duds and furbelows that hang on the + wall, so that I can get at some traps of mine behind them.” He took some + articles from the wall, replaced the dresses of Mrs. Sol, and answered + Mornie's look of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “I was only getting at my purse and my revolver,” he said, showing them. + “I've got to get some stores at the Ferry by daylight.” + </p> + <p> + Mornie sighed. “I'm giving you great trouble, Rand, I know; but it won't + be for long.” + </p> + <p> + He muttered something, took her hand again, and bade her “good-night.” + When he reached the door, he looked back. The light was shining full upon + her face as she lay there, with her babe on her breast, bravely “looking + ahead.” + </p> + <p> + IV. THE CLOUDS PASS. + </p> + <p> + It was early morning at the Ferry. The “up coach” had passed, with lights + unextinguished, and the “outsides” still asleep. The ferryman had gone up + to the Ferry Mansion House, swinging his lantern, and had found the + sleepy-looking “all night” bar-keeper on the point of withdrawing for the + day on a mattress under the bar. An Indian half-breed, porter of the + Mansion House, was washing out the stains of recent nocturnal dissipation + from the bar-room and veranda; a few birds were twittering on the + cotton-woods beside the river; a bolder few had alighted upon the veranda, + and were trying to reconcile the existence of so much lemon-peel and + cigar-stumps with their ideas of a beneficent Creator. A faint earthly + freshness and perfume rose along the river banks. Deep shadow still lay + upon the opposite shore; but in the distance, four miles away, Morning + along the level crest of Table Mountain walked with rosy tread. + </p> + <p> + The sleepy bar-keeper was that morning doomed to disappointment; for + scarcely had the coach passed, when steps were heard upon the veranda, and + a weary, dusty traveller threw his blanket and knapsack to the porter, and + then dropped into a vacant arm-chair, with his eyes fixed on the distant + crest of Table Mountain. He remained motionless for some time, until the + bar-keeper, who had already concocted the conventional welcome of the + Mansion House, appeared with it in a glass, put it upon the table, glanced + at the stranger, and then, thoroughly awake, cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “Ruth Pinkney—or I'm a Chinaman!” + </p> + <p> + The stranger lifted his eyes wearily. Hollow circles were around their + orbits; haggard lines were in his checks. But it was Ruth. + </p> + <p> + He took the glass, and drained it at a single draught. “Yes,” he said + absently, “Ruth Pinkney,” and fixed his eyes again on the distant rosy + crest. + </p> + <p> + “On your way up home?” suggested the bar-keeper, following the direction + of Ruth's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “Been upon a pasear, hain't yer? Been havin' a little tear round + Sacramento,—seein' the sights?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth smiled bitterly. “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + The bar-keeper lingered, ostentatiously wiping a glass. But Ruth again + became abstracted in the mountain, and the barkeeper turned away. + </p> + <p> + How pure and clear that summit looked to him! how restful and steadfast + with serenity and calm! how unlike his own feverish, dusty, travel-worn + self! A week had elapsed since he had last looked upon it,—a week of + disappointment, of anxious fears, of doubts, of wild imaginings, of utter + helplessness. In his hopeless quest of the missing Mornie, he had, in + fancy, seen this serene eminence haunting his remorseful, passion-stricken + soul. And now, without a clew to guide him to her unknown hiding-place, he + was back again, to face the brother whom he had deceived, with only the + confession of his own weakness. Hard as it was to lose forever the fierce, + reproachful glances of the woman he loved, it was still harder, to a man + of Ruth's temperament, to look again upon the face of the brother he + feared. A hand laid upon his shoulder startled him. It was the bar-keeper. + </p> + <p> + “If it's a fair question, Ruth Pinkney, I'd like to ask ye how long ye + kalkilate to hang around the Ferry to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” demanded Ruth haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “Because, whatever you've been and done, I want ye to have a square show. + Ole Nixon has been cavoortin' round yer the last two days, swearin' to + kill you on sight for runnin' off with his darter. Sabe? Now, let me ax ye + two questions. FIRST, Are you heeled?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth responded to this dialectical inquiry affirmatively by putting his + hand on his revolver. + </p> + <p> + “Good! Now, SECOND, Have you got the gal along here with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” responded Ruth in a hollow voice. + </p> + <p> + “That's better yet,” said the man, without heeding the tone of the reply. + “A woman—and especially THE woman in a row of this kind—handicaps + a man awful.” He paused, and took up the empty glass. “Look yer, Ruth + Pinkney, I'm a square man, and I'll be square with you. So I'll just tell + you you've got the demdest odds agin' ye. Pr'aps ye know it, and don't + keer. Well, the boys around yer are all sidin' with the old man Nixon. + It's the first time the old rip ever had a hand in his favor: so the boys + will see fair play for Nixon, and agin' YOU. But I reckon you don't mind + him!” + </p> + <p> + “So little, I shall never pull trigger on him,” said Ruth gravely. + </p> + <p> + The bar-keeper stared, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, thar's + that Kanaka Joe, who used to be sorter sweet on Mornie,—he's an ugly + devil,—he's helpin' the old man.” + </p> + <p> + The sad look faded from Ruth's eyes suddenly. A certain wild Berserker + rage—a taint of the blood, inherited from heaven knows what + Old-World ancestry, which had made the twin-brothers' Southwestern + eccentricities respected in the settlement—glowed in its place. The + barkeeper noted it, and augured a lively future for the day's festivities. + But it faded again; and Ruth, as he rose, turned hesitatingly towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen my brother Rand lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Nary.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't been here, or about the Ferry?” + </p> + <p> + “Nary time.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't heard,” said Ruth, with a faint attempt at a smile, “if he's + been around here asking after me,—sorter looking me up, you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much,” returned the bar-keeper deliberately. “Ez far ez I know Rand,—that + ar brother o' yours,—he's one of yer high-toned chaps ez doesn't + drink, thinks bar-rooms is pizen, and ain't the sort to come round yer, + and sling yarns with me.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth rose; but the hand that he placed upon the table, albeit a powerful + one, trembled so that it was with difficulty he resumed his knapsack. When + he did so, his bent figure, stooping shoulders, and haggard face, made him + appear another man from the one who had sat down. There was a slight touch + of apologetic deference and humility in his manner as he paid his + reckoning, and slowly and hesitatingly began to descend the steps. + </p> + <p> + The bar-keeper looked after him thoughtfully. “Well, dog my skin!” he + ejaculated to himself, “ef I hadn't seen that man—that same Ruth + Pinkney—straddle a friend's body in this yer very room, and dare a + whole crowd to come on, I'd swar that he hadn't any grit in him. Thar's + something up!” + </p> + <p> + But here Ruth reached the last step, and turned again. + </p> + <p> + “If you see old man Nixon, say I'm in town; if you see that ———— + ——” (I regret to say that I cannot repeat his exact, and brief + characterization of the present condition and natal antecedents of Kanaka + Joe), “say I'm looking out for him,” and was gone. + </p> + <p> + He wandered down the road, towards the one long, straggling street of the + settlement. The few people who met him at that early hour greeted him with + a kind of constrained civility; certain cautious souls hurried by without + seeing him; all turned and looked after him; and a few followed him at a + respectful distance. A somewhat notorious practical joker and recognized + wag at the Ferry apparently awaited his coming with something of + invitation and expectation, but, catching sight of Ruth's haggard face and + blazing eyes, became instantly practical, and by no means jocular in his + greeting. At the top of the hill, Ruth turned to look once more upon the + distant mountain, now again a mere cloud-line on the horizon. In the firm + belief that he would never again see the sun rise upon it, he turned aside + into a hazel-thicket, and, tearing out a few leaves from his pocket-book, + wrote two letters,—one to Rand, and one to Mornie, but which, as + they were never delivered, shall not burden this brief chronicle of that + eventful day. For, while transcribing them, he was startled by the sounds + of a dozen pistol-shots in the direction of the hotel he had recently + quitted. Something in the mere sound provoked the old hereditary fighting + instinct, and sent him to his feet with a bound, and a slight distension + of the nostrils, and sniffing of the air, not unknown to certain men who + become half intoxicated by the smell of powder. He quickly folded his + letters, and addressed them carefully, and, taking off his knapsack and + blanket, methodically arranged them under a tree, with the letters on top. + Then he examined the lock of his revolver, and then, with the step of a + man ten years younger, leaped into the road. He had scarcely done so when + he was seized, and by sheer force dragged into a blacksmith's shop at the + roadside. He turned his savage face and drawn weapon upon his assailant, + but was surprised to meet the anxious eyes of the bar-keeper of the + Mansion House. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a d——d fool,” said the man quickly. “Thar's fifty + agin' you down thar. But why in h-ll didn't you wipe out old Nixon when + you had such a good chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Wipe out old Nixon?” repeated Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; just now, when you had him covered.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + The bar-keeper turned quickly upon Ruth, stared at him, and then suddenly + burst into a fit of laughter. “Well, I've knowed you two were twins, but + damn me if I ever thought I'd be sold like this!” And he again burst into + a roar of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” demanded Ruth savagely. + </p> + <p> + “What do I mean?” returned the barkeeper. “Why, I mean this. I mean that + your brother Rand, as you call him, he'z bin—for a young feller, and + a pious feller—doin' about the tallest kind o' fightin' to-day + that's been done at the Ferry. He laid out that ar Kanaka Joe and two of + his chums. He was pitched into on your quarrel, and he took it up for you + like a little man. I managed to drag him off, up yer in the hazel-bush for + safety, and out you pops, and I thought you was him. He can't be far away. + Halloo! There they're comin'; and thar's the doctor, trying to keep them + back!” + </p> + <p> + A crowd of angry, excited faces, filled the road suddenly; but before them + Dr. Duchesne, mounted, and with a pistol in his hand, opposed their + further progress. + </p> + <p> + “Back in the bush!” whispered the barkeeper. “Now's your time!” + </p> + <p> + But Ruth stirred not. “Go you back,” he said in a low voice, “find Rand, + and take him away. I will fill his place here.” He drew his revolver, and + stepped into the road. + </p> + <p> + A shout, a report, and the spatter of red dust from a bullet near his + feet, told him he was recognized. He stirred not; but another shout, and a + cry, “There they are—BOTH of 'em!” made him turn. + </p> + <p> + His brother Rand, with a smile on his lip and fire in his eye, stood by + his side. Neither spoke. Then Rand, quietly, as of old, slipped his hand + into his brother's strong palm. Two or three bullets sang by them; a + splinter flew from the blacksmith's shed: but the brothers, hard gripping + each other's hands, and looking into each other's faces with a quiet joy, + stood there calm and imperturbable. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary pause. The voice of Dr. Duchesne rose above the + crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Keep back, I say! keep back! Or hear me!—for five years I've worked + among you, and mended and patched the holes you've drilled through each + other's carcasses—Keep back, I say!—or the next man that pulls + trigger, or steps forward, will get a hole from me that no surgeon can + stop. I'm sick of your bungling ball practice! Keep back!—or, by the + living Jingo, I'll show you where a man's vitals are!” + </p> + <p> + There was a burst of laughter from the crowd, and for a moment the twins + were forgotten in this audacious speech and coolly impertinent presence. + </p> + <p> + “That's right! Now let that infernal old hypocritical drunkard, Mat Nixon, + step to the front.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd parted right and left, and half pushed, half dragged Nixon + before him. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the doctor, “this is the man who has just shot at Rand + Pinkney for hiding his daughter. Now, I tell you, gentlemen, and I tell + him, that for the last week his daughter, Mornie Nixon, has been under my + care as a patient, and my protection as a friend. If there's anybody to be + shot, the job must begin with me!” + </p> + <p> + There was another laugh, and a cry of “Bully for old Sawbones!” Ruth + started convulsively, and Rand answered his look with a confirming + pressure of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “That isn't all, gentlemen: this drunken brute has just shot at a + gentleman whose only offence, to my knowledge, is, that he has, for the + last week, treated her with a brother's kindness, has taken her into his + own home, and cared for her wants as if she were his own sister.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's hand again grasped his brother's. Rand colored and hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “There's more yet, gentlemen. I tell you that that girl, Mornie Nixon, + has, to my knowledge, been treated like a lady, has been cared for as she + never was cared for in her father's house, and, while that father has been + proclaiming her shame in every bar-room at the Ferry, has had the sympathy + and care, night and day, of two of the most accomplished ladies of the + Ferry,—Mrs. Sol Saunders, gentlemen, and Miss Euphemia.” + </p> + <p> + There was a shout of approbation from the crowd. Nixon would have slipped + away, but the doctor stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet! I've one thing more to say. I've to tell you, gentlemen, on my + professional word of honor, that, besides being an old hypocrite, this + same old Mat Nixon is the ungrateful, unnatural GRANDFATHER of the first + boy born in the district.” + </p> + <p> + A wild huzza greeted the doctor's climax. By a common consent the crowd + turned toward the Twins, who, grasping each other's hands, stood apart. + The doctor nodded his head. The next moment the Twins were surrounded, and + lifted in the arms of the laughing throng, and borne in triumph to the + bar-room of the Mansion House. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said the bar-keeper, “call for what you like: the Mansion + House treats to-day in honor of its being the first time that Rand Pinkney + has been admitted to the bar.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was agreed, that, as her condition was still precarious, the news + should be broken to her gradually and indirectly. The indefatigable Sol + had a professional idea, which was not displeasing to the Twins. It being + a lovely summer afternoon, the couch of Mornie was lifted out on the + ledge, and she lay there basking in the sunlight, drinking in the pure + air, and looking bravely ahead in the daylight as she had in the darkness, + for her couch commanded a view of the mountain flank. And, lying there, + she dreamed a pleasant dream, and in her dream saw Rand returning up the + mountain-trail. She was half conscious that he had good news for her; and, + when he at last reached her bedside, he began gently and kindly to tell + his news. But she heard him not, or rather in her dream was most occupied + with his ways and manners, which seemed unlike him, yet inexpressibly + sweet and tender. The tears were fast coming in her eyes, when he suddenly + dropped on his knees beside her, threw away Rand's disguising hat and + coat, and clasped her in his arms. And by that she KNEW it was Ruth. + </p> + <p> + But what they said; what hurried words of mutual explanation and + forgiveness passed between them; what bitter yet tender recollections of + hidden fears and doubts, now forever chased away in the rain of tears and + joyous sunshine of that mountain-top, were then whispered; whatever of + this little chronicle that to the reader seems strange and inconsistent + (as all human record must ever be strange and imperfect, except to the + actors) was then made clear,—was never divulged by them, and must + remain with them forever. The rest of the party had withdrawn, and they + were alone. But when Mornie turned, and placed the baby in its father's + arms, they were so isolated in their happiness, that the lower world + beneath them might have swung and drifted away, and left that mountain-top + the beginning and creation of a better planet. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “You know all about it now,” said Sol the next day, explaining the + previous episodes of this history to Ruth: “you've got the whole plot + before you. It dragged a little in the second act, for the actors weren't + up in their parts. But for an amateur performance, on the whole, it wasn't + bad.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I'm sure,” said Rand impulsively, “how we'd have got on + without Euphemia. It's too bad she couldn't be here to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “She wanted to come,” said Sol; “but the gentleman she's engaged to came + up from Marysville last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman—engaged!” repeated Rand, white and red by turns. + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes. I say, 'gentleman,' although he's in the variety profession. + She always said,” said Sol, quietly looking at Rand, “that she'd never + marry OUT of it.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN HEIRESS OF RED DOG. + </h2> + <p> + The first intimation given of the eccentricity of the testator was, I + think, in the spring of 1854. He was at that time in possession of a + considerable property, heavily mortgaged to one friend, and a wife of some + attraction, on whose affections another friend held an encumbering lien. + One day it was found that he had secretly dug, or caused to be dug, a deep + trap before the front-door of his dwelling, into which a few friends, in + the course of the evening, casually and familiarly dropped. This + circumstance, slight in itself, seemed to point to the existence of a + certain humor in the man, which might eventually get into literature, + although his wife's lover—a man of quick discernment, whose leg was + broken by the fall—took other views. It was some weeks later, that, + while dining with certain other friends of his wife, he excused himself + from the table to quietly re-appear at the front-window with a + three-quarter inch hydraulic pipe, and a stream of water projected at the + assembled company. An attempt was made to take public cognizance of this; + but a majority of the citizens of Red Dog, who were not at dinner, decided + that a man had a right to choose his own methods of diverting his company. + Nevertheless, there were some hints of his insanity; his wife recalled + other acts clearly attributable to dementia; the crippled lover argued + from his own experience that the integrity of her limbs could only be + secured by leaving her husband's house; and the mortgagee, fearing a + further damage to his property, foreclosed. But here the cause of all this + anxiety took matters into his own hands, and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + When we next heard from him, he had, in some mysterious way, been relieved + alike of his wife and property, and was living alone at Rockville fifty + miles away, and editing a newspaper. But that originality he had displayed + when dealing with the problems of his own private life, when applied to + politics in the columns of “The Rockville Vanguard” was singularly + unsuccessful. An amusing exaggeration, purporting to be an exact account + of the manner in which the opposing candidate had murdered his Chinese + laundryman, was, I regret to say, answered only by assault and battery. A + gratuitous and purely imaginative description of a great religious revival + in Calaveras, in which the sheriff of the county—a notoriously + profane sceptic—was alleged to have been the chief exhorter, + resulted only in the withdrawal of the county advertising from the paper. + In the midst of this practical confusion he suddenly died. It was then + discovered, as a crowning proof of his absurdity, that he had left a will, + bequeathing his entire effects to a freckle-faced maid-servant at the + Rockville Hotel. But that absurdity became serious when it was also + discovered that among these effects were a thousand shares in the Rising + Sun Mining Company, which a day or two after his demise, and while people + were still laughing at his grotesque benefaction, suddenly sprang into + opulence and celebrity. Three millions of dollars was roughly estimated as + the value of the estate thus wantonly sacrificed. For it is only fair to + state, as a just tribute to the enterprise and energy of that young and + thriving settlement, that there was not probably a single citizen who did + not feel himself better able to control the deceased humorist's property. + Some had expressed a doubt of their ability to support a family; others + had felt perhaps too keenly the deep responsibility resting upon them when + chosen from the panel as jurors, and had evaded their public duties; a few + had declined office and a low salary: but no one shrank from the + possibility of having been called upon to assume the functions of Peggy + Moffat, the heiress. + </p> + <p> + The will was contested,—first by the widow, who it now appeared had + never been legally divorced from the deceased; next by four of his + cousins, who awoke, only too late, to a consciousness of his moral and + pecuniary worth. But the humble legatee—a singularly plain, + unpretending, uneducated Western girl—exhibited a dogged pertinacity + in claiming her rights. She rejected all compromises. A rough sense of + justice in the community, while doubting her ability to take care of the + whole fortune, suggested that she ought to be content with three hundred + thousand dollars. “She's bound to throw even THAT away on some derned + skunk of a man, natoorally; but three millions is too much to give a chap + for makin' her onhappy. It's offerin' a temptation to cussedness.” The + only opposing voice to this counsel came from the sardonic lips of Mr. + Jack Hamlin. “Suppose,” suggested that gentleman, turning abruptly on the + speaker,—“suppose, when you won twenty thousand dollars of me last + Friday night—suppose that, instead of handing you over the money as + I did—suppose I'd got up on my hind-legs, and said, 'Look yer, Bill + Wethersbee, you're a d——d fool. If I give ye that twenty + thousand, you'll throw it away in the first skin-game in 'Frisco, and hand + it over to the first short-card sharp you'll meet. There's a thousand,—enough + for you to fling away,—take it and get!' Suppose what I'd said to + you was the frozen truth, and you know'd it, would that have been the + square thing to play on you?” But here Wethersbee quickly pointed out the + inefficiency of the comparison by stating that HE had won the money fairly + with a STAKE. “And how do you know,” demanded Hamlin savagely, bending his + black eyes on the astounded casuist,—“how do you know that the gal + hezn't put down a stake?” The man stammered an unintelligible reply. The + gambler laid his white hand on Wethersbee's shoulder. “Look yer, old man,” + he said, “every gal stakes her WHOLE pile,—you can bet your life on + that,—whatever's her little game. If she took to keerds instead of + her feelings, if she'd put up 'chips' instead o' body and soul, she'd bust + every bank 'twixt this and 'Frisco! You hear me?” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat of this idea was conveyed, I fear not quite as sentimentally, to + Peggy Moffat herself. The best legal wisdom of San Francisco, retained by + the widow and relatives, took occasion, in a private interview with Peggy, + to point out that she stood in the quasi-criminal attitude of having + unlawfully practised upon the affections of an insane elderly gentleman, + with a view of getting possession of his property, and suggested to her + that no vestige of her moral character would remain after the trial, if + she persisted in forcing her claims to that issue. It is said that Peggy, + on hearing this, stopped washing the plate she had in her hands, and, + twisting the towel around her fingers, fixed her small pale blue eyes at + the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “And ez that the kind o' chirpin these critters keep up?” + </p> + <p> + “I regret to say, my dear young lady,” responded the lawyer, “that the + world is censorious. I must add,” he continued, with engaging frankness, + “that we professional lawyers are apt to study the opinion of the world, + and that such will be the theory of—our side.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Peggy stoutly, “ez I allow I've got to go into court to + defend my character, I might as well pack in them three millions too.” + </p> + <p> + There is hearsay evidence that Peg added to this speech a wish and desire + to “bust the crust” of her traducers, and, remarking that “that was the + kind of hairpin” she was, closed the conversation with an unfortunate + accident to the plate, that left a severe contusion on the legal brow of + her companion. But this story, popular in the bar-rooms and gulches, + lacked confirmation in higher circles. Better authenticated was the legend + related of an interview with her own lawyer. That gentleman had pointed + out to her the advantage of being able to show some reasonable cause for + the singular generosity of the testator. + </p> + <p> + “Although,” he continued, “the law does not go back of the will for reason + or cause for its provisions, it would be a strong point with the judge and + jury—particularly if the theory of insanity were set up—for us + to show that the act was logical and natural. Of course you have—I + speak confidently, Miss Moffat—certain ideas of your own why the + late Mr. Byways was so singularly generous to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't,” said Peg decidedly. + </p> + <p> + “Think again. Had he not expressed to you—you understand that this + is confidential between us, although I protest, my dear young lady, that I + see no reason why it should not be made public—had he not given + utterance to sentiments of a nature consistent with some future + matrimonial relations?” But here Miss Peg's large mouth, which had been + slowly relaxing over her irregular teeth, stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “If you mean he wanted to marry me—No!” + </p> + <p> + “I see. But were there any conditions—of course you know the law + takes no cognizance of any not expressed in the will; but still, for the + sake of mere corroboration of the bequest—do you know of any + conditions on which he gave you the property?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean did he want anything in return?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, my dear young lady.” + </p> + <p> + Peg's face on one side turned a deep magenta color, on the other a lighter + cherry, while her nose was purple, and her forehead an Indian red. To add + to the effect of this awkward and discomposing dramatic exhibition of + embarrassment, she began to wipe her hands on her dress, and sat silent. + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said the lawyer hastily. “No matter—the conditions + WERE fulfilled.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Peg amazedly. “How could they be until he was dead?” + </p> + <p> + It was the lawyer's turn to color and grow embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “He DID say something, and make some conditions,” continued Peg, with a + certain firmness through her awkwardness; “but that's nobody's business + but mine and his'n. And it's no call o' yours or theirs.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear Miss Moffat, if these very conditions were proofs of his + right mind, you surely would not object to make them known, if only to + enable you to put yourself in a condition to carry them out.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Peg cunningly, “s'pose you and the Court didn't think 'em + satisfactory? S'pose you thought 'em QUEER? Eh?” + </p> + <p> + With this helpless limitation on the part of the defence, the case came to + trial. Everybody remembers it,—how for six weeks it was the daily + food of Calaveras County; how for six weeks the intellectual and moral and + spiritual competency of Mr. James Byways to dispose of his property was + discussed with learned and formal obscurity in the court, and with + unlettered and independent prejudice by camp-fires and in bar-rooms. At + the end of that time, when it was logically established that at least + nine-tenths of the population of Calaveras were harmless lunatics, and + everybody else's reason seemed to totter on its throne, an exhausted jury + succumbed one day to the presence of Peg in the court-room. It was not a + prepossessing presence at any time; but the excitement, and an injudicious + attempt to ornament herself, brought her defects into a glaring relief + that was almost unreal. Every freckle on her face stood out and asserted + itself singly; her pale blue eyes, that gave no indication of her force of + character, were weak and wandering, or stared blankly at the judge; her + over-sized head, broad at the base, terminating in the scantiest possible + light-colored braid in the middle of her narrow shoulders, was as hard and + uninteresting as the wooden spheres that topped the railing against which + she sat. + </p> + <p> + The jury, who for six weeks had had her described to them by the + plaintiffs as an arch, wily enchantress, who had sapped the failing reason + of Jim Byways, revolted to a man. There was something so appallingly + gratuitous in her plainness, that it was felt that three millions was + scarcely a compensation for it. “Ef that money was give to her, she earned + it SURE, boys: it wasn't no softness of the old man,” said the foreman. + When the jury retired, it was felt that she had cleared her character: + when they re-entered the room with their verdict, it was known that she + had been awarded three millions damages for its defamation. + </p> + <p> + She got the money. But those who had confidently expected to see her + squander it were disappointed: on the contrary, it was presently whispered + that she was exceedingly penurious. That admirable woman, Mrs. Stiver of + Red Dog, who accompanied her to San Francisco to assist her in making + purchases, was loud in her indignation. “She cares more for two bits than + I do for five dollars. She wouldn't buy anything at the 'City of Paris,' + because it was 'too expensive,' and at last rigged herself out, a perfect + guy, at some cheap slop-shops in Market Street. And after all the care + Jane and me took of her, giving up our time and experience to her, she + never so much as made Jane a single present.” Popular opinion, which + regarded Mrs. Stiver's attention as purely speculative, was not shocked at + this unprofitable denouement; but when Peg refused to give anything to + clear the mortgage off the new Presbyterian Church, and even declined to + take shares in the Union Ditch, considered by many as an equally sacred + and safe investment, she began to lose favor. Nevertheless, she seemed to + be as regardless of public opinion as she had been before the trial; took + a small house, in which she lived with an old woman who had once been a + fellow-servant, on apparently terms of perfect equality, and looked after + her money. I wish I could say that she did this discreetly; but the fact + is, she blundered. The same dogged persistency she had displayed in + claiming her rights was visible in her unsuccessful ventures. She sunk two + hundred thousand dollars in a worn-out shaft originally projected by the + deceased testator; she prolonged the miserable existence of “The Rockville + Vanguard” long after it had ceased to interest even its enemies; she kept + the doors of the Rockville Hotel open when its custom had departed; she + lost the co-operation and favor of a fellow-capitalist through a trifling + misunderstanding in which she was derelict and impenitent; she had three + lawsuits on her hands that could have been settled for a trifle. I note + these defects to show that she was by no means a heroine. I quote her + affair with Jack Folinsbee to show she was scarcely the average woman. + </p> + <p> + That handsome, graceless vagabond had struck the outskirts of Red Dog in a + cyclone of dissipation which left him a stranded but still rather + interesting wreck in a ruinous cabin not far from Peg Moffat's virgin + bower. Pale, crippled from excesses, with a voice quite tremulous from + sympathetic emotion more or less developed by stimulants, he lingered + languidly, with much time on his hands, and only a few neighbors. In this + fascinating kind of general deshabille of morals, dress, and the emotions, + he appeared before Peg Moffat. More than that, he occasionally limped with + her through the settlement. The critical eye of Red Dog took in the + singular pair,—Jack, voluble, suffering, apparently overcome by + remorse, conscience, vituperation, and disease; and Peg, open-mouthed, + high-colored, awkward, yet delighted; and the critical eye of Red Dog, + seeing this, winked meaningly at Rockville. No one knew what passed + between them; but all observed that one summer day Jack drove down the + main street of Red Dog in an open buggy, with the heiress of that town + beside him. Jack, albeit a trifle shaky, held the reins with something of + his old dash; and Mistress Peggy, in an enormous bonnet with pearl-colored + ribbons a shade darker than her hair, holding in her short, pink-gloved + fingers a bouquet of yellow roses, absolutely glowed crimson in + distressful gratification over the dash-board. So these two fared on, out + of the busy settlement, into the woods, against the rosy sunset. Possibly + it was not a pretty picture: nevertheless, as the dim aisles of the solemn + pines opened to receive them, miners leaned upon their spades, and + mechanics stopped in their toil to look after them. The critical eye of + Red Dog, perhaps from the sun, perhaps from the fact that it had itself + once been young and dissipated, took on a kindly moisture as it gazed. + </p> + <p> + The moon was high when they returned. Those who had waited to congratulate + Jack on this near prospect of a favorable change in his fortunes were + chagrined to find, that, having seen the lady safe home, he had himself + departed from Red Dog. Nothing was to be gained from Peg, who, on the next + day and ensuing days, kept the even tenor of her way, sunk a thousand or + two more in unsuccessful speculation, and made no change in her habits of + personal economy. Weeks passed without any apparent sequel to this + romantic idyl. Nothing was known definitely until Jack, a month later, + turned up in Sacramento, with a billiard-cue in his hand, and a heart + overcharged with indignant emotion. “I don't mind saying to you, + gentlemen, in confidence,” said Jack to a circle of sympathizing players,—“I + don't mind telling you regarding this thing, that I was as soft on that + freckled-faced, red-eyed, tallow-haired gal, as if she'd been—a—a—an + actress. And I don't mind saying, gentlemen, that, as far as I understand + women, she was just as soft on me. You kin laugh; but it's so. One day I + took her out buggy-riding,—in style, too,—and out on the road + I offered to do the square thing, just as if she'd been a lady,—offered + to marry her then and there. And what did she do?” said Jack with a + hysterical laugh. “Why, blank it all! OFFERED ME TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS A + WEEK ALLOWANCE—PAY TO BE STOPPED WHEN I WASN'T AT HOME!” The roar of + laughter that greeted this frank confession was broken by a quiet voice + asking, “And what did YOU say?”—“Say?” screamed Jack, “I just told + her to go to —— with her money.”—“They say,” continued + the quiet voice, “that you asked her for the loan of two hundred and fifty + dollars to get you to Sacramento—and that you got it.”—“Who + says so roared Jack. Show me the blank liar.” There was a dead silence. + Then the possessor of the quiet voice, Mr. Jack Hamlin, languidly reached + under the table, took the chalk, and, rubbing the end of his billiard-cue, + began with gentle gravity: “It was an old friend of mine in Sacramento, a + man with a wooden leg, a game eye, three fingers on his right hand, and a + consumptive cough. Being unable, naturally, to back himself, he leaves + things to me. So, for the sake of argument,” continued Hamlin, suddenly + laying down his cue, and fixing his wicked black eyes on the speaker, “say + it's ME!” + </p> + <p> + I am afraid that this story, whether truthful or not, did not tend to + increase Peg's popularity in a community where recklessness and generosity + condoned for the absence of all the other virtues; and it is possible, + also, that Red Dog was no more free from prejudice than other more + civilized but equally disappointed matchmakers. Likewise, during the + following year, she made several more foolish ventures, and lost heavily. + In fact, a feverish desire to increase her store at almost any risk seemed + to possess her. At last it was announced that she intended to reopen the + infelix Rockville Hotel, and keep it herself. + </p> + <p> + Wild as this scheme appeared in theory, when put into practical operation + there seemed to be some chance of success. Much, doubtless, was owing to + her practical knowledge of hotel-keeping, but more to her rigid economy + and untiring industry. The mistress of millions, she cooked, washed, + waited on table, made the beds, and labored like a common menial. Visitors + were attracted by this novel spectacle. The income of the house increased + as their respect for the hostess lessened. No anecdote of her avarice was + too extravagant for current belief. It was even alleged that she had been + known to carry the luggage of guests to their rooms, that she might + anticipate the usual porter's gratuity. She denied herself the ordinary + necessaries of life. She was poorly clad, she was ill-fed—but the + hotel was making money. + </p> + <p> + A few hinted of insanity; others shook their heads, and said a curse was + entailed on the property. It was believed, also, from her appearance, that + she could not long survive this tax on her energies, and already there was + discussion as to the probable final disposition of her property. + </p> + <p> + It was the particular fortune of Mr. Jack Hamlin to be able to set the + world right on this and other questions regarding her. + </p> + <p> + A stormy December evening had set in when he chanced to be a guest of the + Rockville Hotel. He had, during the past week, been engaged in the + prosecution of his noble profession at Red Dog, and had, in the graphic + language of a coadjutor, “cleared out the town, except his fare in the + pockets of the stage-driver.” “The Red Dog Standard” had bewailed his + departure in playful obituary verse, beginning, “Dearest Johnny, thou hast + left us,” wherein the rhymes “bereft us” and “deplore” carried a vague + allusion to “a thousand dollars more.” A quiet contentment naturally + suffused his personality, and he was more than usually lazy and deliberate + in his speech. At midnight, when he was about to retire, he was a little + surprised, however, by a tap on his door, followed by the presence of + Mistress Peg Moffat, heiress, and landlady of Rockville hotel. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamlin, despite his previous defence of Peg, had no liking for her. + His fastidious taste rejected her uncomeliness; his habits of thought and + life were all antagonistic to what he had heard of her niggardliness and + greed. As she stood there, in a dirty calico wrapper, still redolent with + the day's cuisine, crimson with embarrassment and the recent heat of the + kitchen range, she certainly was not an alluring apparition. Happily for + the lateness of the hour, her loneliness, and the infelix reputation of + the man before her, she was at least a safe one. And I fear the very + consciousness of this scarcely relieved her embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to say a few words to ye alone, Mr. Hamlin,” she began, taking + an unoffered seat on the end of his portmanteau, “or I shouldn't hev + intruded. But it's the only time I can ketch you, or you me; for I'm down + in the kitchen from sunup till now.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped awkwardly, as if to listen to the wind, which was rattling the + windows, and spreading a film of rain against the opaque darkness without. + Then, smoothing her wrapper over her knees, she remarked, as if opening a + desultory conversation, “Thar's a power of rain outside.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamlin's only response to this meteorological observation was a yawn, + and a preliminary tug at his coat as he began to remove it. + </p> + <p> + “I thought ye couldn't mind doin' me a favor,” continued Peg, with a hard, + awkward laugh, “partik'ly seein' ez folks allowed you'd sorter bin a + friend o' mine, and hed stood up for me at times when you hedn't any + partikler call to do it. I hevn't” she continued, looking down on her lap, + and following with her finger and thumb a seam of her gown,—“I + hevn't so many friends ez slings a kind word for me these times that I + disremember them.” Her under lip quivered a little here; and, after vainly + hunting for a forgotten handkerchief, she finally lifted the hem of her + gown, wiped her snub nose upon it, but left the tears still in her eyes as + she raised them to the man, Mr. Hamlin, who had by this time divested + himself of his coat, stopped unbuttoning his waistcoat, and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “Like ez not thar'll be high water on the North Fork, ef this rain keeps + on,” said Peg, as if apologetically, looking toward the window. + </p> + <p> + The other rain having ceased, Mr. Hamlin began to unbutton his waistcoat + again. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to ask ye a favor about Mr.—about—Jack Folinsbee,” + began Peg again hurriedly. “He's ailin' agin, and is mighty low. And he's + losin' a heap o' money here and thar, and mostly to YOU. You cleaned him + out of two thousand dollars last night—all he had.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said the gambler coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought ez you woz a friend o' mine, I'd ask ye to let up a + little on him,” said Peg, with an affected laugh. “You kin do it. Don't + let him play with ye.” + </p> + <p> + “Mistress Margaret Moffat,” said Jack, with lazy deliberation, taking off + his watch, and beginning to wind it up, “ef you're that much stuck after + Jack Folinsbee, YOU kin keep him off of me much easier than I kin. You're + a rich woman. Give him enough money to break my bank, or break himself for + good and all; but don't keep him forlin' round me in hopes to make a + raise. It don't pay, Mistress Moffat—it don't pay!” + </p> + <p> + A finer nature than Peg's would have misunderstood or resented the + gambler's slang, and the miserable truths that underlaid it. But she + comprehended him instantly, and sat hopelessly silent. + </p> + <p> + “Ef you'll take my advice,” continued Jack, placing his watch and chain + under his pillow, and quietly unloosing his cravat, “you'll quit this yer + forlin', marry that chap, and hand over to him the money and the + money-makin' that's killin' you. He'll get rid of it soon enough. I don't + say this because I expect to git it; for, when he's got that much of a + raise, he'll make a break for 'Frisco, and lose it to some first-class + sport THERE. I don't say, neither, that you mayn't be in luck enough to + reform him. I don't say, neither—and it's a derned sight more + likely!—that you mayn't be luckier yet, and he'll up and die afore + he gits rid of your money. But I do say you'll make him happy NOW; and, ez + I reckon you're about ez badly stuck after that chap ez I ever saw any + woman, you won't be hurtin' your own feelin's either.” + </p> + <p> + The blood left Peg's face as she looked up. “But that's WHY I can't give + him the money—and he won't marry me without it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamlin's hand dropped from the last button of his waistcoat. “Can't—give—him—the—money?” + he repeated slowly. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—because I LOVE him.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamlin rebuttoned his waistcoat, and sat down patiently on the bed. + Peg arose, and awkwardly drew the portmanteau a little nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “When Jim Byways left me this yer property,” she began, looking cautiously + around, “he left it to me on CONDITIONS; not conditions ez waz in his + WRITTEN will, but conditions ez waz SPOKEN. A promise I made him in this + very room, Mr. Hamlin,—this very room, and on that very bed you're + sittin' on, in which he died.” + </p> + <p> + Like most gamblers, Mr. Hamlin was superstitious. He rose hastily from the + bed, and took a chair beside the window. The wind shook it as if the + discontented spirit of Mr. Byways were without, re-enforcing his last + injunction. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know if you remember him,” said Peg feverishly, “he was a man ez + hed suffered. All that he loved—wife, fammerly, friends—had + gone back on him. He tried to make light of it afore folks; but with me, + being a poor gal, he let himself out. I never told anybody this. I don't + know why he told ME; I don't know,” continued Peg, with a sniffle, “why he + wanted to make me unhappy too. But he made me promise, that, if he left me + his fortune, I'd NEVER, NEVER—so help me God!—never share it + with any man or woman that I LOVED; I didn't think it would be hard to + keep that promise then, Mr. Hamlin; for I was very poor, and hedn't a + friend nor a living bein' that was kind to me, but HIM.” + </p> + <p> + “But you've as good as broken your promise already,” said Hamlin. “You've + given Jack money, as I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Only what I made myself. Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin. When Jack proposed to + me, I offered him about what I kalkilated I could earn myself. When he + went away, and was sick and in trouble, I came here and took this hotel. I + knew that by hard work I could make it pay. Don't laugh at me, please. I + DID work hard, and DID make it pay—without takin' one cent of the + fortin'. And all I made, workin' by night and day, I gave to him. I did, + Mr. Hamlin. I ain't so hard to him as you think, though I might be kinder, + I know.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamlin rose, deliberately resumed his coat, watch, hat, and overcoat. + When he was completely dressed again, he turned to Peg. “Do you mean to + say that you've been givin' all the money you made here to this A 1 + first-class cherubim?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he didn't know where I got it. O Mr. Hamlin! he didn't know + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand you, that he's bin buckin agin Faro with the money that + you raised on hash? And YOU makin' the hash?” + </p> + <p> + “But he didn't know that, he wouldn't hev took it if I'd told him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he'd hev died fust!” said Mr. Hamlin gravely. “Why, he's that + sensitive—is Jack Folinsbee—that it nearly kills him to take + money even of ME. But where does this angel reside when he isn't fightin' + the tiger, and is, so to speak, visible to the naked eye?” + </p> + <p> + “He—he—stops here,” said Peg, with an awkward blush. + </p> + <p> + “I see. Might I ask the number of his room—or should I be a—disturbing + him in his meditations?” continued Jack Hamlin, with grave politeness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! then you'll promise? And you'll talk to him, and make HIM promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Hamlin quietly. + </p> + <p> + “And you'll remember he's sick—very sick? His room's No. 44, at the + end of the hall. Perhaps I'd better go with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll find it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't be too hard on him?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be a father to him,” said Hamlin demurely, as he opened the door and + stepped into the hall. But he hesitated a moment, and then turned, and + gravely held out his hand. Peg took it timidly. He did not seem quite in + earnest; and his black eyes, vainly questioned, indicated nothing. But he + shook her hand warmly, and the next moment was gone. + </p> + <p> + He found the room with no difficulty. A faint cough from within, and a + querulous protest, answered his knock. Mr. Hamlin entered without further + ceremony. A sickening smell of drugs, a palpable flavor of stale + dissipation, and the wasted figure of Jack Folinsbee, half-dressed, + extended upon the bed, greeted him. Mr. Hamlin was for an instant + startled. There were hollow circles round the sick man's eyes; there was + palsy in his trembling limbs; there was dissolution in his feverish + breath. + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” he asked huskily and nervously. + </p> + <p> + “I am, and I want YOU to get up too.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Jack. I'm regularly done up.” He reached his shaking hand + towards a glass half-filled with suspicious, pungent-smelling liquid; but + Mr. Hamlin stayed it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to get back that two thousand dollars you lost?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, get up, and marry that woman down stairs.” + </p> + <p> + Folinsbee laughed half hysterically, half sardonically. + </p> + <p> + “She won't give it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I will.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Folinsbee, with an attempt at a reckless laugh, rose, trembling and with + difficulty, to his swollen feet. Hamlin eyed him narrowly, and then bade + him lie down again. “To-morrow will do,” he said, “and then—” + </p> + <p> + “If I don't—” + </p> + <p> + “If you don't,” responded Hamlin, “why, I'll just wade in and CUT YOU + OUT!” + </p> + <p> + But on the morrow Mr. Hamlin was spared that possible act of disloyalty; + for, in the night, the already hesitating spirit of Mr. Jack Folinsbee + took flight on the wings of the south-east storm. When or how it happened, + nobody knew. Whether this last excitement and the near prospect of + matrimony, or whether an overdose of anodyne, had hastened his end, was + never known. I only know, that, when they came to awaken him the next + morning, the best that was left of him—a face still beautiful and + boy-like—looked up coldly at the tearful eyes of Peg Moffat. “It + serves me right, it's a judgment,” she said in a low whisper to Jack + Hamlin; “for God knew that I'd broken my word, and willed all my property + to him.” + </p> + <p> + She did not long survive him. Whether Mr. Hamlin ever clothed with action + the suggestion indicated in his speech to the lamented Jack that night, is + not of record. He was always her friend, and on her demise became her + executor. But the bulk of her property was left to a distant relation of + handsome Jack Folinsbee, and so passed out of the control of Red Dog + forever. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE GREAT DEADWOOD MYSTERY + </h2> + <p> + It was growing quite dark in the telegraph-office at Cottonwood, Tuolumne + County, California. The office, a box-like enclosure, was separated from + the public room of the Miners' Hotel by a thin partition; and the + operator, who was also news and express agent at Cottonwood, had closed + his window, and was lounging by his news-stand preparatory to going home. + Without, the first monotonous rain of the season was dripping from the + porches of the hotel in the waning light of a December day. The operator, + accustomed as he was to long intervals of idleness, was fast becoming + bored. + </p> + <p> + The tread of mud-muffled boots on the veranda, and the entrance of two + men, offered a momentary excitement. He recognized in the strangers two + prominent citizens of Cottonwood; and their manner bespoke business. One + of them proceeded to the desk, wrote a despatch, and handed it to the + other interrogatively. + </p> + <p> + “That's about the way the thing p'ints,” responded his companion + assentingly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckoned it only squar to use his dientical words?” + </p> + <p> + “That's so.” + </p> + <p> + The first speaker turned to the operator with the despatch. + </p> + <p> + “How soon can you shove her through?” + </p> + <p> + The operator glanced professionally over the address and the length of the + despatch. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he answered promptly. + </p> + <p> + “And she gets there?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night. But there's no delivery until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shove her through to-night, and say there's an extra twenty left here for + delivery.” + </p> + <p> + The operator, accustomed to all kinds of extravagant outlay for + expedition, replied that he would lay this proposition with the despatch, + before the San Francisco office. He then took it and read it—and + re-read it. He preserved the usual professional apathy,—had + doubtless sent many more enigmatical and mysterious messages,—but + nevertheless, when he finished, he raised his eyes inquiringly to his + customer. That gentleman, who enjoyed a reputation for equal spontaneity + of temper and revolver, met his gaze a little impatiently. The operator + had recourse to a trick. Under the pretence of misunderstanding the + message, he obliged the sender to repeat it aloud for the sake of + accuracy, and even suggested a few verbal alterations, ostensibly to + insure correctness, but really to extract further information. + Nevertheless, the man doggedly persisted in a literal transcript of his + message. The operator went to his instrument hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he added half-questioningly, “there ain't no chance of a + mistake. This address is Rightbody, that rich old Bostonian that everybody + knows. There ain't but one?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the address,” responded the first speaker coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't know the old chap had investments out here,” suggested the + operator, lingering at his instrument. + </p> + <p> + “No more did I,” was the insufficient reply. + </p> + <p> + For some few moments nothing was heard but the click of the instrument, as + the operator worked the key, with the usual appearance of imparting + confidence to a somewhat reluctant hearer who preferred to talk himself. + The two men stood by, watching his motions with the usual awe of the + unprofessional. When he had finished, they laid before him two + gold-pieces. As the operator took them up, he could not help saying,— + </p> + <p> + “The old man went off kinder sudden, didn't he? Had no time to write?” + </p> + <p> + “Not sudden for that kind o' man,” was the exasperating reply. + </p> + <p> + But the speaker was not to be disconcerted. “If there is an answer—” + he began. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't any,” replied the first speaker quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the man ez sent the message is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's signed by you two.” + </p> + <p> + “On'y ez witnesses—eh?” appealed the first speaker to his comrade. + </p> + <p> + “On'y ez witnesses,” responded the other. + </p> + <p> + The operator shrugged his shoulders. The business concluded, the first + speaker slightly relaxed. He nodded to the operator, and turned to the + bar-room with a pleasing social impulse. When their glasses were set down + empty, the first speaker, with a cheerful condemnation of the hard times + and the weather, apparently dismissed all previous proceedings from his + mind, and lounged out with his companion. At the corner of the street they + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that job's done,” said the first speaker, by way of relieving the + slight social embarrassment of parting. + </p> + <p> + “Thet's so,” responded his companion, and shook his hand. + </p> + <p> + They parted. A gust of wind swept through the pines, and struck a faint + Aeolian cry from the wires above their heads; and the rain and the + darkness again slowly settled upon Cottonwood. + </p> + <p> + The message lagged a little at San Francisco, laid over half an hour at + Chicago, and fought longitude the whole way; so that it was past midnight + when the “all night” operator took it from the wires at Boston. But it was + freighted with a mandate from the San Francisco office; and a messenger + was procured, who sped with it through dark snow-bound streets, between + the high walls of close-shuttered rayless houses, to a certain formal + square ghostly with snow-covered statues. Here he ascended the broad steps + of a reserved and solid-looking mansion, and pulled a bronze bell-knob, + that somewhere within those chaste recesses, after an apparent reflective + pause, coldly communicated the fact that a stranger was waiting without—as + he ought. Despite the lateness of the hour, there was a slight glow from + the windows, clearly not enough to warm the messenger with indications of + a festivity within, but yet bespeaking, as it were, some prolonged though + subdued excitement. The sober servant who took the despatch, and receipted + for it as gravely as if witnessing a last will and testament, respectfully + paused before the entrance of the drawing-room. The sound of measured and + rhetorical speech, through which the occasional catarrhal cough of the + New-England coast struggled, as the only effort of nature not wholly + repressed, came from its heavily-curtained recesses; for the occasion of + the evening had been the reception and entertainment of various + distinguished persons, and, as had been epigrammatically expressed by one + of the guests, “the history of the country” was taking its leave in + phrases more or less memorable and characteristic. Some of these + valedictory axioms were clever, some witty, a few profound, but always + left as a genteel contribution to the entertainer. Some had been already + prepared, and, like a card, had served and identified the guest at other + mansions. + </p> + <p> + The last guest departed, the last carriage rolled away, when the servant + ventured to indicate the existence of the despatch to his master, who was + standing on the hearth-rug in an attitude of wearied self-righteousness. + He took it, opened it, read it, re-read it, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “There must be some mistake! It is not for me. Call the boy, Waters.” + </p> + <p> + Waters, who was perfectly aware that the boy had left, nevertheless + obediently walked towards the hall-door, but was recalled by his master. + </p> + <p> + “No matter—at present!” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing serious, William?” asked Mrs. Rightbody, with languid wifely + concern. + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing. Is there a light in my study?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But, before you go, can you give me a moment or two?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rightbody turned a little impatiently towards his wife. She had thrown + herself languidly on the sofa; her hair was slightly disarranged, and part + of a slippered foot was visible. She might have been a finely-formed + woman; but even her careless deshabille left the general impression that + she was severely flannelled throughout, and that any ostentation of + womanly charm was under vigorous sanitary SURVEILLANCE. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Marvin told me to-night that her son made no secret of his serious + attachment for our Alice, and that, if I was satisfied, Mr. Marvin would + be glad to confer with you at once.” + </p> + <p> + The information did not seem to absorb Mr. Rightbody's wandering + attention, but rather increased his impatience. He said hastily, that he + would speak of that to-morrow; and partly by way of reprisal, and partly + to dismiss the subject, added— + </p> + <p> + “Positively James must pay some attention to the register and the + thermometer. It was over 70 degrees to-night, and the ventilating draught + was closed in the drawing-room.” + </p> + <p> + “That was because Professor Ammon sat near it, and the old gentleman's + tonsils are so sensitive.” + </p> + <p> + “He ought to know from Dr. Dyer Doit that systematic and regular exposure + to draughts stimulates the mucous membrane; while fixed air over 60 + degrees invariably—” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, William,” interrupted Mrs. Rightbody, with feminine + adroitness, adopting her husband's topic with a view of thereby directing + him from it,—“I'm afraid that people do not yet appreciate the + substitution of bouillon for punch and ices. I observed that Mr. Spondee + declined it, and, I fancied, looked disappointed. The fibrine and wheat in + liqueur-glasses passed quite unnoticed too.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet each half-drachm contained the half-digested substance of a pound + of beef. I'm surprised at Spondee!” continued Mr. Rightbody aggrievedly. + “Exhausting his brain and nerve force by the highest creative efforts of + the Muse, he prefers perfumed and diluted alcohol flavored with carbonic + acid gas. Even Mrs. Faringway admitted to me that the sudden lowering of + the temperature of the stomach by the introduction of ice—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but she took a lemon ice at the last Dorothea Reception, and asked + me if I had observed that the lower animals refused their food at a + temperature over 60 degrees.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rightbody again moved impatiently towards the door. Mrs. Rightbody + eyed him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “You will not write, I hope? Dr. Keppler told me to-night that your + cerebral symptoms interdicted any prolonged mental strain.” + </p> + <p> + “I must consult a few papers,” responded Mr. Rightbody curtly, as he + entered his library. + </p> + <p> + It was a richly-furnished apartment, morbidly severe in its decorations, + which were symptomatic of a gloomy dyspepsia of art, then quite prevalent. + A few curios, very ugly, but providentially equally rare, were scattered + about. There were various bronzes, marbles, and casts, all requiring + explanation, and so fulfilling their purpose of promoting conversation, + and exhibiting the erudition of their owner. There were souvenirs of + travel with a history, old bric-a-brac with a pedigree, but little or + nothing that challenged attention for itself alone. In all cases the + superiority of the owner to his possessions was admitted. As a natural + result, nobody ever lingered there, the servants avoided the room, and no + child was ever known to play in it. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rightbody turned up the gas, and from a cabinet of drawers, precisely + labelled, drew a package of letters. These he carefully examined. All were + discolored, and made dignified by age; but some, in their original + freshness, must have appeared trifling, and inconsistent with any + correspondent of Mr. Rightbody. Nevertheless, that gentleman spent some + moments in carefully perusing them, occasionally referring to the telegram + in his hand. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Mr. Rightbody + started, made a half-unconscious movement to return the letters to the + drawer, turned the telegram face downwards, and then, somewhat harshly, + stammered,— + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Who's there? Come in.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, papa,” said a very pretty girl, entering, without, + however, the slightest trace of apology or awe in her manner, and taking a + chair with the self-possession and familiarity of an habitue of the room; + “but I knew it was not your habit to write late, so I supposed you were + not busy. I am on my way to bed.” + </p> + <p> + She was so very pretty, and withal so utterly unconscious of it, or + perhaps so consciously superior to it, that one was provoked into a more + critical examination of her face. But this only resulted in a reiteration + of her beauty, and perhaps the added facts that her dark eyes were very + womanly, her rich complexion eloquent, and her chiselled lips fell enough + to be passionate or capricious, notwithstanding that their general effect + suggested neither caprice, womanly weakness, nor passion. + </p> + <p> + With the instinct of an embarrassed man, Mr. Rightbody touched the topic + he would have preferred to avoid. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose we must talk over to-morrow,” he hesitated, “this matter of + yours and Mr. Marvin's? Mrs. Marvin has formally spoken to your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice lifted her bright eyes intelligently, but not joyfully; and the + color of action, rather than embarrassment, rose to her round cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, HE said she would,” she answered simply. + </p> + <p> + “At present,” continued Mr. Rightbody still awkwardly, “I see no objection + to the proposed arrangement.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice opened her round eyes at this. + </p> + <p> + “Why, papa, I thought it had been all settled long ago! Mamma knew it, you + knew it. Last July, mamma and you talked it over.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” returned her father, fumbling his papers; “that is—well, + we will talk of it to-morrow.” In fact, Mr. Rightbody HAD intended to give + the affair a proper attitude of seriousness and solemnity by due precision + of speech, and some apposite reflections, when he should impart the news + to his daughter, but felt himself unable to do it now. “I am glad, Alice,” + he said at last, “that you have quite forgotten your previous whims and + fancies. You see WE are right.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I dare say, papa, if I'm to be married at all, that Mr. Marvin is in + every way suitable.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rightbody looked at his daughter narrowly. There was not the slightest + impatience nor bitterness in her manner: it was as well regulated as the + sentiment she expressed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Marvin is—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I know what Mr. Marvin IS,” interrupted Miss Alice; “and he has promised + me that I shall be allowed to go on with my studies the same as before. I + shall graduate with my class; and, if I prefer to practise my profession, + I can do so in two years after our marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “In two years?” queried Mr. Rightbody curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You see, in case we should have a child, that would give me time + enough to wean it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rightbody looked at this flesh of his flesh, pretty and palpable flesh + as it was; but, being confronted as equally with the brain of his brain, + all he could do was to say meekly,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly. We will see about all that to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice rose. Something in the free, unfettered swing of her arms as + she rested them lightly, after a half yawn, on her lithe hips, suggested + his next speech, although still distrait and impatient. + </p> + <p> + “You continue your exercise with the health-lift yet, I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa; but I had to give up the flannels. I don't see how mamma could + wear them. But my dresses are high-necked, and by bathing I toughen my + skin. See!” she added, as, with a child-like unconsciousness, she + unfastened two or three buttons of her gown, and exposed the white surface + of her throat and neck to her father, “I can defy a chill.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Rightbody, with something akin to a genuine playful, paternal laugh, + leaned forward and kissed her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “It's getting late, Ally,” he said parentally, but not dictatorially. “Go + to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I took a nap of three hours this afternoon,” said Miss Alice, with a + dazzling smile, “to anticipate this dissipation. Good-night, papa. + To-morrow, then.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” repeated Mr. Rightbody, with his eyes still fixed upon the + girl vaguely. “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice tripped from the room, possibly a trifle the more + light-heartedly that she had parted from her father in one of his rare + moments of illogical human weakness. And perhaps it was well for the poor + girl that she kept this single remembrance of him, when, I fear, in + after-years, his methods, his reasoning, and indeed all he had tried to + impress upon her childhood, had faded from her memory. + </p> + <p> + For, when she had left, Mr. Rightbody fell again to the examination of his + old letters. This was quite absorbing; so much so, that he did not notice + the footsteps of Mrs. Rightbody, on the staircase as she passed to her + chamber, nor that she had paused on the landing to look through the glass + half-door on her husband, as he sat there with the letters beside him, and + the telegram opened before him. Had she waited a moment later, she would + have seen him rise, and walk to the sofa with a disturbed air and a slight + confusion; so that, on reaching it, he seemed to hesitate to lie down, + although pale and evidently faint. Had she still waited, she would have + seen him rise again with an agonized effort, stagger to the table, + fumblingly refold and replace the papers in the cabinet, and lock it, and, + although now but half-conscious, hold the telegram over the gas-flame till + it was consumed. + </p> + <p> + For, had she waited until this moment, she would have flown unhesitatingly + to his aid, as, this act completed, he staggered again, reached his hand + toward the bell, but vainly, and then fell prone upon the sofa. + </p> + <p> + But alas! no providential nor accidental hand was raised to save him, or + anticipate the progress of this story. And when, half an hour later, Mrs. + Rightbody, a little alarmed, and more indignant at his violation of the + doctor's rules, appeared upon the threshold, Mr. Rightbody lay upon the + sofa, dead! + </p> + <p> + With bustle, with thronging feet, with the irruption of strangers, and a + hurrying to and fro, but, more than all, with an impulse and emotion + unknown to the mansion when its owner was in life, Mrs. Rightbody strove + to call back the vanished life, but in vain. The highest medical + intelligence, called from its bed at this strange hour, saw only the + demonstration of its theories made a year before. Mr. Rightbody was dead—without + doubt, without mystery, even as a correct man should die—logically, + and indorsed by the highest medical authority. + </p> + <p> + But even in the confusion, Mrs. Rightbody managed to speed a messenger to + the telegraph-office for a copy of the despatch received by Mr. Rightbody, + but now missing. + </p> + <p> + In the solitude of her own room, and without a confidant, she read these + words:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “[Copy.] + + “To MR. ADAMS RIGHTBODY, BOSTON, MASS. + + “Joshua Silsbie died suddenly this morning. His last request was + that you should remember your sacred compact with him of thirty + years ago. + (Signed) “SEVENTY-FOUR. + “SEVENTY-FIVE.” + </pre> + <p> + In the darkened home, and amid the formal condolements of their friends + who had called to gaze upon the scarcely cold features of their late + associate, Mrs. Rightbody managed to send another despatch. It was + addressed to “Seventy-Four and Seventy-Five,” Cottonwood. In a few hours + she received the following enigmatical response:— + </p> + <p> + “A horse-thief named Josh Silsbie was lynched yesterday morning by the + Vigilantes at Deadwood.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II. + </h2> + <p> + The spring of 1874 was retarded in the California sierras; so much so, + that certain Eastern tourists who had early ventured into the Yo Semite + Valley found themselves, one May morning, snow-bound against the + tempestuous shoulders of El Capitan. So furious was the onset of the wind + at the Upper Merced Canyon, that even so respectable a lady as Mrs. + Rightbody was fain to cling to the neck of her guide to keep her seat in + the saddle; while Miss Alice, scorning all masculine assistance, was + hurled, a lovely chaos, against the snowy wall of the chasm. Mrs. + Rightbody screamed; Miss Alice raged under her breath, but scrambled to + her feet again in silence. + </p> + <p> + “I told you so!” said Mrs. Rightbody, in an indignant whisper, as her + daughter again ranged beside her. “I warned you especially, Alice—that—that—” + </p> + <p> + “What?” interrupted Miss Alice curtly. + </p> + <p> + “That you would need your chemiloons and high boots,” said Mrs. Rightbody, + in a regretful undertone, slightly increasing her distance from the + guides. + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice shrugged her pretty shoulders scornfully, but ignored her + mother's implication. + </p> + <p> + “You were particularly warned against going into the valley at this + season,” she only replied grimly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody raised her eyes impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “You know how anxious I was to discover your poor father's strange + correspondent, Alice. You have no consideration.” + </p> + <p> + “But when YOU HAVE discovered him—what then?” queried Miss Alice. + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. My belief is, that you will find the telegram only a mere business + cipher, and all this quest mere nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice! Why, YOU yourself thought your father's conduct that night very + strange. Have you forgotten?” + </p> + <p> + The young lady had NOT, but, for some far-reaching feminine reason, chose + to ignore it at that moment, when her late tumble in the snow was still + fresh in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “And this woman, whoever she may be—” continued Mrs. Rightbody. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know there's a woman in the case?” interrupted Miss Alice, + wickedly I fear. + </p> + <p> + “How do—I—know—there's a woman?” slowly ejaculated Mrs. + Rightbody, floundering in the snow and the unexpected possibility of such + a ridiculous question. But here her guide flew to her assistance, and + estopped further speech. And, indeed, a grave problem was before them. + </p> + <p> + The road that led to their single place of refuge—a cabin, half + hotel, half trading-post, scarce a mile away—skirted the base of the + rocky dome, and passed perilously near the precipitous wall of the valley. + There was a rapid descent of a hundred yards or more to this terrace-like + passage; and the guides paused for a moment of consultation, cooly + oblivious, alike to the terrified questioning of Mrs. Rightbody, or the + half-insolent independence of the daughter. The elder guide was + russet-bearded, stout, and humorous: the younger was dark-bearded, slight, + and serious. + </p> + <p> + “Ef you kin git young Bunker Hill to let you tote her on your shoulders, + I'll git the Madam to hang on to me,” came to Mrs. Rightbody's horrified + ears as the expression of her particular companion. + </p> + <p> + “Freeze to the old gal, and don't reckon on me if the daughter starts in + to play it alone,” was the enigmatical response of the younger guide. + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice overheard both propositions; and, before the two men returned + to their side, that high-spirited young lady had urged her horse down the + declivity. + </p> + <p> + Alas! at this moment a gust of whirling snow swept down upon her. There + was a flounder, a mis-step, a fatal strain on the wrong rein, a fall, a + few plucky but unavailing struggles, and both horse and rider slid + ignominiously down toward the rocky shelf. Mrs. Rightbody screamed. Miss + Alice, from a confused debris of snow and ice, uplifted a vexed and + coloring face to the younger guide, a little the more angrily, perhaps, + that she saw a shade of impatience on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Don't move, but tie one end of the 'lass' under your arms, and throw me + the other,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by 'lass'—the lasso?” asked Miss Alice + disgustedly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you say so?” + </p> + <p> + “O Alice!” reproachfully interpolated Mrs. Rightbody, encircled by the + elder guide's stalwart arm. + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice deigned no reply, but drew the loop of the lasso over her + shoulders, and let it drop to her round waist. Then she essayed to throw + the other end to her guide. Dismal failure! The first fling nearly knocked + her off the ledge; the second went all wild against the rocky wall; the + third caught in a thorn-bush, twenty feet below her companion's feet. Miss + Alice's arm sunk helplessly to her side, at which signal of unqualified + surrender, the younger guide threw himself half way down the slope, worked + his way to the thorn-bush, hung for a moment perilously over the parapet, + secured the lasso, and then began to pull away at his lovely burden. Miss + Alice was no dead weight, however, but steadily half-scrambled on her + hands and knees to within a foot or two of her rescuer. At this too + familiar proximity, she stood up, and leaned a little stiffly against the + line, causing the guide to give an extra pull, which had the lamentable + effect of landing her almost in his arms. + </p> + <p> + As it was, her intelligent forehead struck his nose sharply, and I regret + to add, treating of a romantic situation, caused that somewhat prominent + sign and token of a hero to bleed freely. Miss Alice instantly clapped a + handful of snow over his nostrils. + </p> + <p> + “Now elevate your right arm,” she said commandingly. + </p> + <p> + He did as he was bidden, but sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “That compresses the artery.” + </p> + <p> + No man, with a pretty woman's hand and a handful of snow over his mouth + and nose, could effectively utter a heroic sentence, nor, with his arm + elevated stiffly over his head, assume a heroic attitude. But, when his + mouth was free again, he said half-sulkily, half-apologetically,— + </p> + <p> + “I might have known a girl couldn't throw worth a cent.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” demanded Miss Alice sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Because—why—because—you see—they haven't got the + experience,” he stammered feebly. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! they haven't the CLAVICLE—that's all! It's because I'm a + woman, and smaller in the collar-bone, that I haven't the play of the + fore-arm which you have. See!” She squared her shoulders slightly, and + turned the blaze of her dark eyes full on his. “Experience, indeed! A girl + can learn anything a boy can.” + </p> + <p> + Apprehension took the place of ill-humor in her hearer. He turned his eyes + hastily away, and glanced above him. The elder guide had gone forward to + catch Miss Alice's horse, which, relieved of his rider, was floundering + toward the trail. Mrs. Rightbody was nowhere to be seen. And these two + were still twenty feet below the trail! + </p> + <p> + There was an awkward pause. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I put you up the same way?” he queried. Miss Alice looked at his + nose, and hesitated. “Or will you take my hand?” he added in surly + impatience. To his surprise, Miss Alice took his hand, and they began the + ascent together. + </p> + <p> + But the way was difficult and dangerous. Once or twice her feet slipped on + the smoothly-worn rock beneath; and she confessed to an inward + thankfulness when her uncertain feminine hand-grip was exchanged for his + strong arm around her waist. Not that he was ungentle; but Miss Alice + angrily felt that he had once or twice exercised his superior masculine + functions in a rough way; and yet the next moment she would have probably + rejected the idea that she had even noticed it. There was no doubt, + however, that he WAS a little surly. + </p> + <p> + A fierce scramble finally brought them back in safety to the trail; but in + the action Miss Alice's shoulder, striking a projecting bowlder, wrung + from her a feminine cry of pain, her first sign of womanly weakness. The + guide stopped instantly. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I hurt you?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her brown lashes, a trifle moist from suffering, looked in his + eyes, and dropped her own. Why, she could not tell. And yet he had + certainly a kind face, despite its seriousness; and a fine face, albeit + unshorn and weather-beaten. Her own eyes had never been so near to any + man's before, save her lover's; and yet she had never seen so much in even + his. She slipped her hand away, not with any reference to him, but rather + to ponder over this singular experience, and somehow felt uncomfortable + thereat. + </p> + <p> + Nor was he less so. It was but a few days ago that he had accepted the + charge of this young woman from the elder guide, who was the recognized + escort of the Rightbody party, having been a former correspondent of her + father's. He had been hired like any other guide, but had undertaken the + task with that chivalrous enthusiasm which the average Californian always + extends to the sex so rare to him. But the illusion had passed; and he had + dropped into a sulky, practical sense of his situation, perhaps fraught + with less danger to himself. Only when appealed to by his manhood or her + weakness, he had forgotten his wounded vanity. + </p> + <p> + He strode moodily ahead, dutifully breaking the path for her in the + direction of the distant canyon, where Mrs. Rightbody and her friend + awaited them. Miss Alice was first to speak. In this trackless, uncharted + terra incognita of the passions, it is always the woman who steps out to + lead the way. + </p> + <p> + “You know this place very well. I suppose you have lived here long?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You were not born here—no?” + </p> + <p> + A long pause. + </p> + <p> + “I observe they call you 'Stanislaus Joe.' Of course that is not your real + name?” (Mem.—Miss Alice had never called him ANYTHING, usually + prefacing any request with a languid, “O-er-er, please, mister-er-a!” + explicit enough for his station.) + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice (trotting after him, and bawling in his ear).—“WHAT name + did you say?” + </p> + <p> + The Man (doggedly).—“I don't know.” Nevertheless, when they reached + the cabin, after an half-hour's buffeting with the storm, Miss Alice + applied herself to her mother's escort, Mr. Ryder. + </p> + <p> + “What's the name of the man who takes care of my horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Stanislaus Joe,” responded Mr. Ryder. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Sometimes he's called Joe Stanislaus.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice (satirically).—“I suppose it's the custom here to send + young ladies out with gentlemen who hide their names under an alias?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ryder (greatly perplexed).—“Why, dear me, Miss Alice, you allers + 'peared to me as a gal as was able to take keer—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice (interrupting with a wounded, dove-like timidity).—“Oh, + never mind, please!” + </p> + <p> + The cabin offered but scanty accommodation to the tourists; which fact, + when indignantly presented by Mrs. Rightbody, was explained by the + good-humored Ryder from the circumstance that the usual hotel was only a + slight affair of boards, cloth, and paper, put up during the season, and + partly dismantled in the fall. “You couldn't be kept warm enough there,” + he added. Nevertheless Miss Alice noticed that both Mr. Ryder and + Stanislaus Joe retired there with their pipes, after having prepared the + ladies' supper, with the assistance of an Indian woman, who apparently + emerged from the earth at the coming of the party, and disappeared as + mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + The stars came out brightly before they slept; and the next morning a + clear, unwinking sun beamed with almost summer power through the + shutterless window of their cabin, and ironically disclosed the details of + its rude interior. Two or three mangy, half-eaten buffalo-robes, a + bearskin, some suspicious-looking blankets, rifles and saddles, + deal-tables, and barrels, made up its scant inventory. A strip of faded + calico hung before a recess near the chimney, but so blackened by smoke + and age that even feminine curiosity respected its secret. Mrs. Rightbody + was in high spirits, and informed her daughter that she was at last on the + track of her husband's unknown correspondent. “Seventy-Four and + Seventy-Five represent two members of the Vigilance Committee, my dear, + and Mr. Ryder will assist me to find them.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Ryder!” ejaculated Miss Alice, in scornful astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said Mrs. Rightbody, with a suspicious assumption of sudden + defence, “you injure yourself, you injure me, by this exclusive attitude. + Mr. Ryder is a friend of your father's, an exceedingly well-informed + gentleman. I have not, of course, imparted to him the extent of my + suspicions. But he can help me to what I must and will know. You might + treat him a little more civilly—or, at least, a little better than + you do his servant, your guide. Mr. Ryder is a gentleman, and not a paid + courier.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice was suddenly attentive. When she spoke again, she asked, “Why + do you not find out something about this Silsbie—who died—or + was hung—or something of that kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Child!” said Mrs. Rightbody, “don't you see there was no Silsbie, or, if + there was, he was simply the confidant of that—woman?” + </p> + <p> + A knock at the door, announcing the presence of Mr. Ryder and Stanislaus + Joe with the horses, checked Mrs. Rightbody's speech. As the animals were + being packed, Mrs. Rightbody for a moment withdrew in confidential + conversation with Mr. Ryder, and, to the young lady's still greater + annoyance, left her alone with Stanislaus Joe. Miss Alice was not in good + temper, but she felt it necessary to say something. + </p> + <p> + “I hope the hotel offers better quarters for travellers than this in + summer,” she began. + </p> + <p> + “It does.” + </p> + <p> + “Then this does not belong to it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Who lives here, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” stammered Miss Alice, “I thought you lived where we + hired—where we met you—in—in—You must excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a regular guide; but as times were hard, and I was out of grub, I + took the job.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of grub!” “job!” And SHE was the “job.” What would Henry Marvin say? + It would nearly kill him. She began herself to feel a little frightened, + and walked towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, miss!” + </p> + <p> + The young girl hesitated. The man's tone was surly, and yet indicated a + certain kind of half-pathetic grievance. HER curiosity got the better of + her prudence, and she turned back. + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” he began hastily, “when we were coming down the valley, + you picked me up twice.” + </p> + <p> + “I picked YOU up?” repeated the astonished Alice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, CONTRADICTED me: that's what I mean,—once when you said those + rocks were volcanic, once when you said the flower you picked was a poppy. + I didn't let on at the time, for it wasn't my say; but all the while you + were talking I might have laid for you—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” said Alice haughtily. + </p> + <p> + “I might have entrapped you before folks. But I only want you to know that + I'M right, and here are the books to show it.” + </p> + <p> + He drew aside the dingy calico curtain, revealed a small shelf of bulky + books, took down two large volumes,—one of botany, one of geology,—nervously + sought his text, and put them in Alice's outstretched hands. + </p> + <p> + “I had no intention—” she began, half-proudly, half-embarrassedly. + </p> + <p> + “Am I right, miss?” he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “I presume you are, if you say so.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all, ma'am. Thank you!” + </p> + <p> + Before the girl had time to reply, he was gone. When he again returned, it + was with her horse, and Mrs. Rightbody and Ryder were awaiting her. But + Miss Alice noticed that his own horse was missing. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not going with us?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice felt her speech was a feeble conventionalism; but it was all + she could say. She, however, DID something. Hitherto it had been her habit + to systematically reject his assistance in mounting to her seat. Now she + awaited him. As he approached, she smiled, and put out her little foot. He + instantly stooped; she placed it in his hand, rose with a spring, and for + one supreme moment Stanislaus Joe held her unresistingly in his arms. The + next moment she was in the saddle; but in that brief interval of sixty + seconds she had uttered a volume in a single sentence,— + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + He muttered a reply, and turned his face aside quickly as if to hide it. + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice cantered forward with a smile, but pulled her hat down over her + eyes as she joined her mother. She was blushing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART_"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART III. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Ryder was as good as his word. A day or two later he entered Mrs. + Rightbody's parlor at the Chrysopolis Hotel in Stockton, with the + information that he had seen the mysterious senders of the despatch, and + that they were now in the office of the hotel waiting her pleasure. Mr. + Ryder further informed her that these gentlemen had only stipulated that + they should not reveal their real names, and that they be introduced to + her simply as the respective “Seventy-Four” and “Seventy-Five” who had + signed the despatch sent to the late Mr. Rightbody. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody at first demurred to this; but, on the assurance from Mr. + Ryder that this was the only condition on which an interview would be + granted, finally consented. + </p> + <p> + “You will find them square men, even if they are a little rough, ma'am. + But, if you'd like me to be present, I'll stop; though I reckon, if ye'd + calkilated on that, you'd have had me take care o' your business by proxy, + and not come yourself three thousand miles to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody believed it better to see them alone. + </p> + <p> + “All right, ma'am. I'll hang round out here; and ef ye should happen to + have a ticklin' in your throat, and a bad spell o' coughin', I'll drop in, + careless like, to see if you don't want them drops. Sabe?” + </p> + <p> + And with an exceedingly arch wink, and a slight familiar tap on Mrs. + Rightbody's shoulder, which might have caused the late Mr. Rightbody to + burst his sepulchre, he withdrew. + </p> + <p> + A very timid, hesitating tap on the door was followed by the entrance of + two men, both of whom, in general size, strength, and uncouthness, were + ludicrously inconsistent with their diffident announcement. They proceeded + in Indian file to the centre of the room, faced Mrs. Rightbody, + acknowledged her deep courtesy by a strong shake of the hand, and, drawing + two chairs opposite to her, sat down side by side. + </p> + <p> + “I presume I have the pleasure of addressing—” began Mrs. Rightbody. + </p> + <p> + The man directly opposite Mrs. Rightbody turned to the other inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + The other man nodded his head, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Seventy-Four.” + </p> + <p> + “Seventy-Five,” promptly followed the other. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody paused, a little confused. + </p> + <p> + “I have sent for you,” she began again, “to learn something more of the + circumstances under which you gentlemen sent a despatch to my late + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “The circumstances,” replied Seventy-Four quietly, with a side-glance at + his companion, “panned out about in this yer style. We hung a man named + Josh Silsbie, down at Deadwood, for hoss-stealin'. When I say WE, I speak + for Seventy-Five yer as is present, as well as representin', so to speak, + seventy-two other gents as is scattered. We hung Josh Silsbie on squar, + pretty squar, evidence. Afore he was strung up, Seventy-Five yer axed him, + accordin' to custom, ef ther was enny thing he had to say, or enny request + that he allowed to make of us. He turns to Seventy-Five yer, and—” + </p> + <p> + Here he paused suddenly, looking at his companion. + </p> + <p> + “He sez, sez he,” began Seventy-Five, taking up the narrative,—“he + sez, 'Kin I write a letter?' sez he. Sez I, 'Not much, ole man: ye've got + no time.' Sez he, 'Kin I send a despatch by telegraph?' I sez, 'Heave + ahead.' He sez,—these is his dientikal words,—'Send to Adam + Rightbody, Boston. Tell him to remember his sacred compack with me thirty + years ago.'” + </p> + <p> + “'His sacred compack with me thirty years ago,'” echoed Seventy-Four,—“his + dientikal words.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the compact?” asked Mrs. Rightbody anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Seventy-Four looked at Seventy-Five, and then both arose, and retired to + the corner of the parlor, where they engaged in a slow but whispered + deliberation. Presently they returned, and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “We allow,” said Seventy-Four, quietly but decidedly, “that YOU know what + that sacred compact was.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody lost her temper and her truthfulness together. “Of course,” + she said hurriedly, “I know. But do you mean to say that you gave this + poor man no further chance to explain before you murdered him?” + </p> + <p> + Seventy-Four and Seventy-Five both rose again slowly, and retired. When + they returned again, and sat down, Seventy-Five, who by this time, through + some subtile magnetism, Mrs. Rightbody began to recognize as the superior + power, said gravely,— + </p> + <p> + “We wish to say, regarding this yer murder, that Seventy-Four and me is + equally responsible; that we reckon also to represent, so to speak, + seventy-two other gentlemen as is scattered; that we are ready, + Seventy-Four and me, to take and holt that responsibility, now and at any + time, afore every man or men as kin be fetched agin us. We wish to say + that this yer say of ours holds good yer in Californy, or in any part of + these United States.” + </p> + <p> + “Or in Canady,” suggested Seventy-Four. + </p> + <p> + “Or in Canady. We wouldn't agree to cross the water, or go to furrin + parts, unless absolutely necessary. We leaves the chise of weppings to + your principal, ma'am, or being a lady, ma'am, and interested, to any one + you may fetch to act for him. An advertisement in any of the Sacramento + papers, or a playcard or handbill stuck unto a tree near Deadwood, saying + that Seventy-Four or Seventy-Five will communicate with this yer principal + or agent of yours, will fetch us—allers.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody, a little alarmed and desperate, saw her blunder. “I mean + nothing of the kind,” she said hastily. “I only expected that you might + have some further details of this interview with Silsbie; that perhaps you + could tell me—” a bold, bright thought crossed Mrs. Rightbody's mind—“something + more about HER.” + </p> + <p> + The two men looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose your society have no objection to giving me information about + HER,” said Mrs. Rightbody eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Another quiet conversation in the corner, and the return of both men. + </p> + <p> + “We want to say that we've no objection.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody's heart beat high. Her boldness had made her penetration + good. Yet she felt she must not alarm the men heedlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Will you inform me to what extent Mr. Rightbody, my late husband, was + interested in her?” + </p> + <p> + This time it seemed an age to Mrs. Rightbody before the men returned from + their solemn consultation in the corner. She could both hear and feel that + their discussion was more animated than their previous conferences. She + was a little mortified, however, when they sat down, to hear Seventy-Four + say slowly,— + </p> + <p> + “We wish to say that we don't allow to say HOW much.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think that the 'sacred compact' between Mr. Rightbody and Mr. + Silsbie referred to her?” + </p> + <p> + “We reckon it do.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody, flushed and animated, would have given worlds had her + daughter been present to hear this undoubted confirmation of her theory. + Yet she felt a little nervous and uncomfortable even on this threshold of + discovery. + </p> + <p> + “Is she here now?” + </p> + <p> + “She's in Tuolumne,” said Seventy-Four. + </p> + <p> + “A little better looked arter than formerly,” added Seventy-Five. + </p> + <p> + “I see. Then Mr. Silsbie ENTICED her away?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, it WAS allowed as she runned away. But it wasn't proved, and + it generally wasn't her style.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody trifled with her next question. + </p> + <p> + “She was pretty, of course?” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of both men brightened. + </p> + <p> + “She was THAT!” said Seventy-Four emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “It would have done you good to see her!” added Seventy-Five. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody inwardly doubted it; but, before she could ask another + question, the two men again retired to the corner for consultation. When + they came back, there was a shade more of kindliness and confidence in + their manner; and Seventy-Four opened his mind more freely. + </p> + <p> + “We wish to say, ma'am, looking at the thing, by and large, in a + far-minded way, that, ez YOU seem interested, and ez Mr. Rightbody was + interested, and was, according to all accounts, deceived and led away by + Silsbie, that we don't mind listening to any proposition YOU might make, + as a lady—allowin' you was ekally interested.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said Mrs. Rightbody quickly. “And you will furnish me with + any papers?” + </p> + <p> + The two men again consulted. + </p> + <p> + “We wish to say, ma'am, that we think she's got papers, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I MUST have them, you understand,” interrupted Mrs. Rightbody, “at any + price. + </p> + <p> + “We was about to say, ma'am,” said Seventy-Four slowly, “that, considerin' + all things,—and you being a lady—you kin have HER, papers, + pedigree, and guaranty, for twelve hundred dollars.” + </p> + <p> + It has been alleged that Mrs. Rightbody asked only one question more, and + then fainted. It is known, however, that by the next day it was understood + in Deadwood that Mrs. Rightbody had confessed to the Vigilance Committee + that her husband, a celebrated Boston millionaire, anxious to gain + possession of Abner Springer's well-known sorrel mare, had incited the + unfortunate Josh Silsbie to steal it; and that finally, failing in this, + the widow of the deceased Boston millionaire was now in personal + negotiation with the owners. + </p> + <p> + Howbeit, Miss Alice, returning home that afternoon, found her mother with + a violent headache. + </p> + <p> + “We will leave here by the next steamer,” said Mrs. Rightbody languidly. + “Mr. Ryder has promised to accompany us.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mother—” + </p> + <p> + “The climate, Alice, is over-rated. My nerves are already suffering from + it. The associations are unfit for you, and Mr. Marvin is naturally + impatient.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Alice colored slightly. + </p> + <p> + “But your quest, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I've abandoned it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have not,” said Alice quietly. “Do you remember my guide at the Yo + Semite,—Stanislaus Joe? Well, Stanislaus Joe is—who do you + think?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody was languidly indifferent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Stanislaus Joe is the son of Joshua Silsbie.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody sat upright in astonishment + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But mother, he knows nothing of what we know. His father treated him + shamefully, and set him cruelly adrift years ago; and, when he was hung, + the poor fellow, in sheer disgrace, changed his name.” + </p> + <p> + “But, if he knows nothing of his father's compact, of what interest is + this?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing! Only I thought it might lead to something.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Rightbody suspected that “something,” and asked sharply, “And pray + how did YOU find it out? You did not speak of it in the valley.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I didn't find it out till to-day,” said Miss Alice, walking to the + window. “He happened to be here, and—told me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART__"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART IV. + </h2> + <p> + If Mrs. Rightbody's friends had been astounded by her singular and + unexpected pilgrimage to California so soon after her husband's decease, + they were still more astounded by the information, a year later, that she + was engaged to be married to a Mr. Ryder, of whom only the scant history + was known, that he was a Californian, and former correspondent of her + husband. It was undeniable that the man was wealthy, and evidently no mere + adventurer; it was rumored that he was courageous and manly: but even + those who delighted in his odd humor were shocked at his grammar and + slang. + </p> + <p> + It was said that Mr. Marvin had but one interview with his father-in-law + elect, and returned so supremely disgusted, that the match was broken off. + The horse-stealing story, more or less garbled, found its way through lips + that pretended to decry it, yet eagerly repeated it. Only one member of + the Rightbody family—and a new one—saved them from utter + ostracism. It was young Mr. Ryder, the adopted son of the prospective head + of the household, whose culture, manners, and general elegance, fascinated + and thrilled Boston with a new sensation. It seemed to many that Miss + Alice should, in the vicinity of this rare exotic, forget her former + enthusiasm for a professional life; but the young man was pitied by + society, and various plans for diverting him from any mesalliance with the + Rightbody family were concocted. + </p> + <p> + It was a wintry night, and the second anniversary of Mr. Rightbody's + death, that a light was burning in his library. But the dead man's chair + was occupied by young Mr. Ryder, adopted son of the new proprietor of the + mansion; and before him stood Alice, with her dark eyes fixed on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “There must have been something in it, Joe, believe me. Did you never hear + your father speak of mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + “But you say he was college-bred, and born a gentleman, and in his youth + he must have had many friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice,” said the young man gravely, “when I have done something to redeem + my name, and wear it again before these people, before YOU, it would be + well to revive the past. But till then—” + </p> + <p> + But Alice was not to be put down. “I remember,” she went on, scarcely + heeding him, “that, when I came in that night, papa was reading a letter, + and seemed to be disconcerted.” + </p> + <p> + “A letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but,” added Alice, with a sigh, “when we found him here insensible, + there was no letter on his person. He must have destroyed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever look among his papers? If found, it might be a clew.” + </p> + <p> + The young man glanced toward the cabinet. Alice read his eyes, and + answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no! The cabinet contained only his papers, all perfectly + arranged,—you know how methodical were his habits,—and some + old business and private letters, all carefully put away.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us see them,” said the young man, rising. + </p> + <p> + They opened drawer after drawer; files upon files of letters and business + papers, accurately folded and filed. Suddenly Alice uttered a little cry, + and picked up a quaint ivory paper-knife lying at the bottom of a drawer. + </p> + <p> + “It was missing the next day, and never could be found: he must have + mislaid it here. This is the drawer,” said Alice eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Here was a clew. But the lower part of the drawer was filled with old + letters, not labelled, yet neatly arranged in files. Suddenly he stopped, + and said, “Put them back, Alice, at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Some of these letters are in my father's handwriting.” + </p> + <p> + “The more reason why I should see them,” said the girl imperatively. + “Here, you take part, and I'll take part, and we'll get through quicker.” + </p> + <p> + There was a certain decision and independence in her manner which he had + learned to respect. He took the letters, and in silence read them with + her. They were old college letters, so filled with boyish dreams, + ambitions, aspirations, and utopian theories, that I fear neither of these + young people even recognized their parents in the dead ashes of the past. + They were both grave, until Alice uttered a little hysterical cry, and + dropped her face in her hands. Joe was instantly beside her. + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing, Joe, nothing. Don't read it, please; please, don't. It's so + funny! it's so very queer!” + </p> + <p> + But Joe had, after a slight, half-playful struggle, taken the letter from + the girl. Then he read aloud the words written by his father thirty years + ago. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, dear friend, for all you say about my wife and boy. I thank + you for reminding me of our boyish compact. He will be ready to fulfil it, + I know, if he loves those his father loves, even if you should marry years + later. I am glad for your sake, for both our sakes, that it is a boy. + Heaven send you a good wife, dear Adams, and a daughter, to make my son + equally happy.” + </p> + <p> + Joe Silsbie looked down, took the half-laughing, half-tearful face in his + hands, kissed her forehead, and, with tears in his grave eyes, said, + “Amen!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + I am inclined to think that this sentiment was echoed heartily by Mrs. + Rightbody's former acquaintances, when, a year later, Miss Alice was + united to a professional gentleman of honor and renown, yet who was known + to be the son of a convicted horse-thief. A few remembered the previous + Californian story, and found corroboration therefor; but a majority + believed it a just reward to Miss Alice for her conduct to Mr. Marvin, + and, as Miss Alice cheerfully accepted it in that light, I do not see why + I may not end my story with happiness to all concerned. + </p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p> + <a name="sam" id="sam"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + A LEGEND OF SAMMTSTADT. + </h2> + <p> + It was the sacred hour of noon at Sammtstadt. Everybody was at dinner; and + the serious Kellner of “Der Wildemann” glanced in mild reproach at Mr. + James Clinch, who, disregarding that fact and the invitatory table d'hote, + stepped into the street. For Mr. Clinch had eaten a late breakfast at + Gladbach, was dyspeptic and American, and, moveover, preoccupied with + business. He was consequently indignant, on entering the garden-like court + and cloister-like counting-house of “Von Becheret, Sons, Uncles, and + Cousins,” to find the comptoir deserted even by the porter, and was + furious at the maidservant, who offered the sacred shibboleth + “Mittagsessen” as a reasonable explanation of the solitude. “A country,” + said Mr. Clinch to himself, “that stops business at mid-day to go to + dinner, and employs women-servants to talk to business-men, is played + out.” + </p> + <p> + He stepped from the silent building into the equally silent Kronprinzen + Strasse. Not a soul to be seen anywhere. Rows on rows of two-storied, + gray-stuccoed buildings that might be dwellings, or might be offices, all + showing some traces of feminine taste and supervision in a flower or a + curtain that belied the legended “Comptoir,” or “Direction,” over their + portals. Mr. Clinch thought of Boston and State Street, of New York and + Wall Street, and became coldly contemptuous. + </p> + <p> + Yet there was clearly nothing to do but to walk down the formal rows of + chestnuts that lined the broad Strasse, and then walk back again. At the + corner of the first cross-street he was struck with the fact that two men + who were standing in front of a dwelling-house appeared to be as + inconsistent, and out of proportion to the silent houses, as were the + actors on a stage to the painted canvas thoroughfares before which they + strutted. Mr. Clinch usually had no fancies, had no eye for quaintness; + besides, this was not a quaint nor romantic district, only an entrepot for + silks and velvets, and Mr. Clinch was here, not as a tourist, but as a + purchaser. The guidebooks had ignored Sammtstadt, and he was too good an + American to waste time in looking up uncatalogued curiosities. Besides, he + had been here once before,—an entire day! + </p> + <p> + One o'clock. Still a full hour and a half before his friend would return + to business. What should he do? The Verein where he had once been + entertained was deserted even by its waiters; the garden, with its + ostentatious out-of-door tables, looked bleak and bare. Mr. Clinch was not + artistic in his tastes; but even he was quick to detect the affront put + upon Nature by this continental, theatrical gardening, and turned + disgustedly away. Born near a “lake” larger than the German Ocean, he + resented a pool of water twenty-five feet in diameter under that alluring + title; and, a frequenter of the Adirondacks, he could scarce contain + himself over a bit of rock-work twelve feet high. “A country,” said Mr. + Clinch, “that—” but here he remembered that he had once seen in a + park in his native city an imitation of the Drachenfels in plaster, on a + scale of two inches to the foot, and checked his speech. + </p> + <p> + He turned into the principal allee of the town. There was a long white + building at one end,—the Bahnhof: at the other end he remembered a + dye-house. He had, a year ago, met its hospitable proprietor: he would + call upon him now. + </p> + <p> + But the same solitude confronted him as he passed the porter's lodge + beside the gateway. The counting-house, half villa, half factory, must + have convoked its humanity in some out-of-the-way refectory, for the halls + and passages were tenantless. For the first time he began to be impressed + with a certain foreign quaintness in the surroundings; he found himself + also recalling something he had read when a boy, about an enchanted palace + whose inhabitants awoke on the arrival of a long-predestined Prince. To + assure himself of the absolute ridiculousness of this fancy, he took from + his pocket the business-card of its proprietor, a sample of dye, and + recalled his own personality in a letter of credit. Having dismissed this + idea from his mind, he lounged on again through a rustic lane that might + have led to a farmhouse, yet was still, absurdly enough, a part of the + factory gardens. Crossing a ditch by a causeway, he presently came to + another ditch and another causeway, and then found himself idly + contemplating a massive, ivy-clad, venerable brick wall. As a mere wall it + might not have attracted his attention; but it seemed to enter and bury + itself at right angles in the side-wall of a quite modern-looking + dwelling. After satisfying himself of this fact, he passed on before the + dwelling, but was amazed to see the wall reappear on the other side + exactly the same—old, ivy-grown, sturdy, uncompromising, and + ridiculous. + </p> + <p> + Could it actually be a part of the house? He turned back, and repassed the + front of the building. The entrance door was hospitably open. There was a + hall and a staircase, but—by all that was preposterous!—they + were built OVER and AROUND the central brick intrusion. The wall actually + ran through the house! “A country,” said Mr. Clinch to himself, “where + they build their houses over ruins to accommodate them, or save the + trouble of removal, is,—” but a very pleasant voice addressing him + here stopped his usual hasty conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “Guten Morgen!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch looked hastily up. Leaning on the parapet of what appeared to + be a garden on the roof of the house was a young girl, red-cheeked, + bright-eyed, blond-haired. The voice was soft, subdued, and mellow; it was + part of the new impression he was receiving, that it seemed to be in some + sort connected with the ivy-clad wall before him. His hat was in his hand + as he answered,— + </p> + <p> + “Guten Morgen!” + </p> + <p> + “Was the Herr seeking anything?” + </p> + <p> + “The Herr was only waiting a longtime-coming friend, and had strayed here + to speak with the before-known proprietor.” + </p> + <p> + “So? But, the before-known proprietor sleeping well at present after + dinner, would the Herr on the terrace still a while linger?” + </p> + <p> + The Herr would, but looked around in vain for the means to do it. He was + thinking of a scaling-ladder, when the young woman reappeared at the open + door, and bade him enter. + </p> + <p> + Following the youthful hostess, Mr. Clinch mounted the staircase, but, + passing the mysterious wall, could not forbear an allusion to it. “It is + old, very old,” said the girl: “it was here when I came.” + </p> + <p> + “That was not very long ago,” said Mr. Clinch gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but my grandfather found it here too.” + </p> + <p> + “And built over it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? It is very, very hard, and SO thick.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch here explained, with masculine superiority, the existence of + such modern agents as nitro-glycerine and dynamite, persuasive in their + effects upon time-honored obstructions and encumbrances. + </p> + <p> + “But there was not then what you call—this—ni—nitro-glycerine.” + </p> + <p> + “But since then?” + </p> + <p> + The young girl gazed at him in troubled surprise. “My great-grandfather + did not take it away when he built the house: why should we?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + They had passed through a hall and dining-room, and suddenly stepped out + of a window upon a gravelled terrace. From this a few stone steps + descended to another terrace, on which trees and shrubs were growing; and + yet, looking over the parapet, Mr. Clinch could see the road some twenty + feet below. It was nearly on a level with, and part of, the second story + of the house. Had an earthquake lifted the adjacent ground? or had the + house burrowed into a hill? Mr. Clinch turned to his companion, who was + standing close beside him, breathing quite audibly, and leaving an + impression on his senses as of a gentle and fragrant heifer. + </p> + <p> + “How was all this done?” + </p> + <p> + The maiden did not know. “It was always here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch reascended the steps. He had quite forgotten his impatience. + Possibly it was the gentle, equable calm of the girl, who, but for her + ready color, did not seem to be moved by anything; perhaps it was the + peaceful repose of this mausoleum of the dead and forgotten wall that + subdued him, but he was quite willing to take the old-fashioned chair on + the terrace which she offered him, and follow her motions with not + altogether mechanical eyes as she drew out certain bottles and glasses + from a mysterious closet in the wall. Mr. Clinch had the weakness of a + majority of his sex in believing that he was a good judge of wine and + women. The latter, as shown in the specimen before him, he would have + invoiced as a fair sample of the middle-class German woman,—healthy, + comfort-loving, home-abiding, the very genius of domesticity. Even in her + virgin outlines the future wholesome matron was already forecast, from the + curves of her broad hips, to the flat lines of her back and shoulders. Of + the wine he was to judge later. THAT required an even more subtle and + unimpassioned intellect. + </p> + <p> + She placed two bottles before him on the table,—one, the traditional + long-necked, amber-colored Rheinflasche; the other, an old, quaint, + discolored, amphorax-patterned glass jug. The first she opened. + </p> + <p> + “This,” she said, pointing to the other, “cannot be opened.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch paid his respects first to the opened bottle, a good quality of + Niersteiner. With his intellect thus clarified, he glanced at the other. + </p> + <p> + “It is from my great-grandfather. It is old as the wall.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch examined the bottle attentively. It seemed to have no cork. + Formed of some obsolete, opaque glass, its twisted neck was apparently + hermetically sealed by the same material. The maiden smiled, as she said,— + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be opened now without breaking the bottle. It is not good luck + to do so. My grandfather and my father would not.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Clinch was still examining the bottle. Its neck was flattened + towards the mouth; but a close inspection showed it was closed by some + equally hard cement, but not glass. + </p> + <p> + “If I can open it without breaking the bottle, have I your permission?” + </p> + <p> + A mischievous glance rested on Mr. Clinch, as the maiden answered,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall not object; but for what will you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “To taste it, to try it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + There was just enough obvious admiration of Mr. Clinch's audacity in the + maiden's manner to impel him to any risk. His only answer was to take from + his pocket a small steel instrument. Holding the neck of the bottle firmly + in one hand, he passed his thumb and the steel twice or thrice around it. + A faint rasping, scratching sound was all the wondering girl heard. Then, + with a sudden, dexterous twist of his thumb and finger, to her utter + astonishment he laid the top of the neck, neatly cut off, in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “There's a better and more modern bottle than you had before,” he said, + pointing to the cleanly-divided neck, “and any cork will fit it now.” + </p> + <p> + But the girl regarded him with anxiety. “And you still wish to taste the + wine?” + </p> + <p> + “With your permission, yes!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up in her eyes. There was permission: there was something more, + that was flattering to his vanity. He took the wine-glass, and, slowly and + in silence, filled it from the mysterious flask. + </p> + <p> + The wine fell into the glass clearly, transparently, heavily, but still + and cold as death. There was no sparkle, no cheap ebullition, no + evanescent bubble. Yet it was so clear, that, but for a faint + amber-tinting, the glass seemed empty. There was no aroma, no ethereal + diffusion from its equable surface. Perhaps it was fancy, perhaps it was + from nervous excitement; but a slight chill seemed to radiate from the + still goblet, and bring down the temperature of the terrace. Mr. Clinch + and his companion both insensibly shivered. + </p> + <p> + But only for a moment. Mr. Clinch raised the glass to his lips. As he did + so, he remembered seeing distinctly, as in a picture before him, the + sunlit terrace, the pretty girl in the foreground,—an amused + spectator of his sacrilegious act,—the outlying ivy-crowned wall, + the grass-grown ditch, the tall factory chimneys rising above the + chestnuts, and the distant poplars that marked the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + The wine was delicious; perhaps a TRIFLE, only a trifle, heady. He was + conscious of a slight exaltation. There was also a smile upon the girl's + lip and a roguish twinkle in her eye as she looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Do you find the wine to your taste?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Fair enough, I warrant,” said Mr. Clinch with ponderous gallantry; “but + methinks 'tis nothing compared with the nectar that grows on those ruby + lips. Nay, by St. Ursula, I swear it!” + </p> + <p> + No sooner had this solemnly ridiculous speech passed the lips of the + unfortunate man than he would have given worlds to have recalled it. He + knew that he must be intoxicated; that the sentiment and language were + utterly unlike him, he was miserably aware; that he did not even know + exactly what it meant, he was also hopelessly conscious. Yet feeling all + this,—feeling, too, the shame of appearing before her as a man who + had lost his senses through a single glass of wine,—nevertheless he + rose awkwardly, seized her hand, and by sheer force drew her towards him, + and kissed her. With an exclamation that was half a cry and half a laugh, + she fled from him, leaving him alone and bewildered on the terrace. + </p> + <p> + For a moment Mr. Clinch supported himself against the open window, leaning + his throbbing head on the cold glass. Shame, mortification, an hysterical + half-consciousness of his utter ridiculousness, and yet an odd, undefined + terror of something, by turns possessed him. Was he ever before guilty of + such perfect folly? Had he ever before made such a spectacle of himself? + Was it possible that he, Mr. James Clinch, the coolest head at a late + supper,—he, the American, who had repeatedly drunk Frenchmen and + Englishmen under the table—could be transformed into a sentimental, + stagey idiot by a single glass of wine? He was conscious, too, of asking + himself these very questions in a stilted sort of rhetoric, and with a + rising brutality of anger that was new to him. And then everything swam + before him, and he seemed to lose all consciousness. + </p> + <p> + But only for an instant. With a strong effort of his will he again + recalled himself, his situation, his surroundings, and, above all, his + appointment. He rose to his feet, hurriedly descended the terrace-steps, + and, before he well knew how, found himself again on the road. Once there, + his faculties returned in full vigor; he was again himself. He strode + briskly forward toward the ditch he had crossed only a few moments before, + but was suddenly stopped. It was filled with water. He looked up and down. + It was clearly the same ditch; but a flowing stream thirty feet wide now + separated him from the other bank. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of this unlooked-for obstacle made Mr. Clinch doubt the + full restoration of his faculties. He stepped to the brink of the flood to + bathe his head in the stream, and wash away the last vestiges of his + potations. But as he approached the placid depths, and knelt down he again + started back, and this time with a full conviction of his own madness; for + reflected from its mirror-like surface was a figure he could scarcely call + his own, although here and there some trace of his former self remained. + </p> + <p> + His close-cropped hair, trimmed a la mode, had given way to long, curling + locks that dropped upon his shoulders. His neat mustache was frightfully + prolonged, and curled up at the ends stiffly. His Piccadilly collar had + changed shape and texture, and reached—a mass of lace—to a + point midway of his breast! His boots,—why had he not noticed his + boots before?—these triumphs of his Parisian bootmaker, were lost in + hideous leathern cases that reached half way up his thighs. In place of + his former high silk hat, there lay upon the ground beside him the awful + thing he had just taken off,—a mass of thickened felt, flap, + feather, and buckle that weighed at least a stone. + </p> + <p> + A single terrible idea now took possession of him. He had been “sold,” + “taken in,” “done for.” He saw it all. In a state of intoxication he had + lost his way, had been dragged into some vile den, stripped of his clothes + and valuables, and turned adrift upon the quiet town in this shameless + masquerade. How should he keep his appointment? how inform the police of + this outrage upon a stranger and an American citizen? how establish his + identity? Had they spared his papers? He felt feverishly in his breast. + Ah!—his watch? Yes, a watch—heavy, jewelled, enamelled—and, + by all that was ridiculous, FIVE OTHERS! He ran his hands into his + capacious trunk hose. What was this? Brooches, chains, finger-rings,—one + large episcopal one,—ear-rings, and a handful of battered gold and + silver coins. His papers, his memorandums, his passport—all proofs + of his identity—were gone! In their place was the unmistakable + omnium gatherum of an accomplished knight of the road. Not only was his + personality, but his character, gone forever. + </p> + <p> + It was a part of Mr. Clinch's singular experience that this last stroke of + ill fortune seemed to revive in him something of the brutal instinct he + had felt a moment before. He turned eagerly about with the intention of + calling some one—the first person he met—to account. But the + house that he had just quitted was gone. The wall! Ah, there it was, no + longer purposeless, intrusive, and ivy-clad, but part of the buttress of + another massive wall that rose into battlements above him. Mr. Clinch + turned again hopelessly toward Sammtstadt. There was the fringe of poplars + on the Rhine, there were the outlying fields lit by the same meridian sun; + but the characteristic chimneys of Sammtstadt were gone. Mr. Clinch was + hopelessly lost. + </p> + <p> + The sound of a horn breaking the stillness recalled his senses. He now for + the first time perceived that a little distance below him, partly hidden + in the trees, was a queer, tower-shaped structure with chains and pulleys, + that in some strange way recalled his boyish reading. A drawbridge and + portcullis! And on the battlement a figure in a masquerading dress as + absurd as his own, flourishing a banner and trumpet, and trying to attract + his attention. + </p> + <p> + “Was wollen Sie?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see the proprietor,” said Mr. Clinch, choking back his rage. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, and the figure turned apparently to consult with some + one behind the battlements. After a moment he reappeared, and in a + perfunctory monotone, with an occasional breathing spell on the trumpet, + began,— + </p> + <p> + “You do give warranty as a good knight and true, as well as by the bones + of the blessed St. Ursula, that you bear no ill will, secret enmity, + wicked misprise or conspiracy, against the body of our noble lord and + master Von Kolnsche? And you bring with you no ambush, siege, or surprise + of retainers, neither secret warrant nor lettres de cachet, nor carry on + your knightly person poisoned dagger, magic ring, witch-powder, nor + enchanted bullet, and that you have entered into no unhallowed alliance + with the Prince of Darkness, gnomes, hexies, dragons, Undines, Loreleis, + nor the like?” + </p> + <p> + “Come down out of that, you d——d old fool!” roared Mr. Clinch, + now perfectly beside himself with rage,—“come down, and let me in!” + </p> + <p> + As Mr. Clinch shouted out the last words, confused cries of recognition + and welcome, not unmixed with some consternation, rose from the + battlements: “Ach Gott!” “Mutter Gott—it is he! It is Jann, Der + Wanderer. It is himself.” The chains rattled, the ponderous drawbridge + creaked and dropped; and across it a medley of motley figures rushed + pellmell. But, foremost among them, the very maiden whom he had left not + ten minutes before flew into his arms, and with a cry of joyful greeting + sank upon his breast. Mr. Clinch looked down upon the fair head and long + braids. It certainly was the same maiden, his cruel enchantress; but where + did she get those absurd garments? + </p> + <p> + “Willkommen,” said a stout figure, advancing with some authority, and + seizing his disengaged hand, “where hast thou been so long?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch, by no means placated, coldly dropped the extended hand. It was + NOT the proprietor he had known. But there was a singular resemblance in + his face to some one of Mr. Clinch's own kin; but who, he could not + remember. “May I take the liberty of asking your name?” he asked coldly. + </p> + <p> + The figure grinned. “Surely; but, if thou standest upon punctilio, it is + for ME to ask thine, most noble Freiherr,” said he, winking upon his + retainers. “Whom have I the honor of entertaining?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Clinch,—James Clinch of Chicago, Ill.” + </p> + <p> + A shout of laughter followed. In the midst of his rage and mortification + Mr. Clinch fancied he saw a shade of pain and annoyance flit across the + face of the maiden. He was puzzled, but pressed her hand, in spite of his + late experiences, reassuringly. She made a gesture of silence to him, and + then slipped away in the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Schames K'l'n'sche von Schekargo,” mimicked the figure, to the + unspeakable delight of his retainers. “So! THAT is the latest French + style. Holy St. Ursula! Hark ye, nephew! I am not a travelled man. Since + the Crusades we simple Rhine gentlemen have staid at home. But I call + myself Kolnsche of Koln, at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely you are right,” said Mr. Clinch hotly, disregarding the + caution of his fair companion; “but, whoever YOU are, I am a stranger + entitled to protection. I have been robbed.” + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Clinch had uttered an exquisite joke instead of a very angry + statement, it could not have been more hilariously received. He paused, + grew confused, and then went on hesitatingly,— + </p> + <p> + “In place of my papers and credentials I find only these.” And he produced + the jewelry from his pockets. + </p> + <p> + Another shout of laughter and clapping of hands followed this second + speech; and the baron, with a wink at his retainers, prolonged the general + mirth by saying, “By the way, nephew, there is little doubt but there has + been robbery—somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It was done,” continued Mr. Clinch, hurrying to make an end of his + explanation, “while I was inadvertently overcome with liquor,—drugged + liquor.” + </p> + <p> + The laughter here was so uproarious that the baron, albeit with tears of + laughter in his own eyes, made a peremptory gesture of silence. The + gesture was peculiar to the baron, efficacious and simple. It consisted + merely in knocking down the nearest laugher. Having thus restored + tranquillity, he strode forward, and took Mr. Clinch by the hand. “By St. + Adolph, I did doubt thee a moment ago, nephew; but this last frank + confession of thine shows me I did thee wrong. Willkommen zu Hause, Jann, + drunk or sober, willcommen zu Cracowen.” + </p> + <p> + More and more mystified, but convinced of the folly of any further + explanation, Mr. Clinch took the extended hand of his alleged uncle, and + permitted himself to be led into the castle. They passed into a large + banqueting-hall adorned with armor and implements of the chase. Mr. Clinch + could not help noticing, that, although the appointments were liberal and + picturesque, the ventilation was bad, and the smoke from the huge chimney + made the air murky. The oaken tables, massive in carving and rich in + color, were unmistakably greasy; and Mr. Clinch slipped on a piece of meat + that one of the dozen half-wild dogs who were occupying the room was + tearing on the floor. The dog, yelping, ran between the legs of a + retainer, precipitating him upon the baron, who instantly, with the “equal + foot” of fate, kicked him and the dog into a corner. + </p> + <p> + “And whence came you last?” asked the baron, disregarding the little + contretemps, and throwing himself heavily on an oaken settle, while he + pushed a queer, uncomfortable-looking stool, with legs like a + Siamese-twin-connected double X, towards his companion. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch, who had quite given himself up to fate, answered mechanically,— + </p> + <p> + “Paris.” + </p> + <p> + The baron winked his eye with unutterable, elderly wickedness. “Ach Gott! + it is nothing to what it was when I was your age. Ah! there was Manon,—Sieur + Manon we used to call her. I suppose she's getting old now. How goes on + the feud between the students and the citizens? Eh? Did you go to the bal + in la Cite?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch stopped the flow of those Justice-Shallow-like reminiscences by + an uneasy exclamation. He was thinking of the maiden who had disappeared + so suddenly. The baron misinterpreted his nervousness. “What ho, within + there!—Max, Wolfgang,—lazy rascals! Bring some wine.” + </p> + <p> + At the baleful word Mr. Clinch started to his feet. “Not for me! Bring me + none of your body-and-soul-destroying poison! I've enough of it!” + </p> + <p> + The baron stared. The servitors stared also. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said Mr. Clinch, recalling himself slowly; “but I + fear that Rhine wine does not agree with me.” + </p> + <p> + The baron grinned. Perceiving, however, that the three servitors grinned + also, he kicked two of them into obscurity, and felled the third to the + floor with his fist. “Hark ye, nephew,” he said, turning to the astonished + Clinch, “give over this nonsense! By the mitre of Bishop Hatto, thou art + as big a fool as he!” + </p> + <p> + “Hatto,” repeated Clinch mechanically. “What! he of the Mouse Tower?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, of the Mouse Tower!” sneered the baron. “I see you know the story.” + </p> + <p> + “Why am I like him?” asked Mr. Clinch in amazement. + </p> + <p> + The baron grinned. “HE punished the Rhenish wine as thou dost, without + judgment. He had—” + </p> + <p> + “The jim-jams,” said Mr. Clinch mechanically again. + </p> + <p> + The baron frowned. “I know not what gibberish thou sayest by 'jim-jams'; + but he had, like thee, the wildest fantasies and imaginings; saw snakes, + toads, rats, in his boots, but principally rats; said they pursued him, + came to his room, his bed—ach Gott!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Mr. Clinch, with a sudden return to his firmer self and his + native inquiring habits; “then THAT is the fact about Bishop Hatto of the + story?” + </p> + <p> + “His enemies made it the subject of a vile slander of an old friend of + mine,” said the baron; “and those cursed poets, who believe everything, + and then persuade others to do so,—may the Devil fly away with them!—kept + it up.” + </p> + <p> + Here were facts quite to Mr. Clinch's sceptical mind. He forgot himself + and his surroundings. + </p> + <p> + “And that story of the Drachenfels?” he asked insinuatingly,—“the + dragon, you know. Was he too—” + </p> + <p> + The baron grinned. “A boar transformed by the drunken brains of the Bauers + of the Siebengebirge. Ach Gott! Ottefried had many a hearty laugh over it; + and it did him, as thou knowest, good service with the nervous mother of + the silly maiden.” + </p> + <p> + “And the seven sisters of Schonberg?” asked Mr. Clinch persuasively. + </p> + <p> + “'Schonberg! Seven sisters!' What of them?” demanded the baron sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know,—the maidens who were so coy to their suitors, and—don't + you remember?—jumped into the Rhine to avoid them.” + </p> + <p> + “'Coy? Jumped into the Rhine to avoid suitors'?” roared the baron, purple + with rage. “Hark ye, nephew! I like not this jesting. Thou knowest I + married one of the Schonberg girls, as did thy father. How 'coy' they were + is neither here nor there; but mayhap WE might tell another story. Thy + father, as weak a fellow as thou art where a petticoat is concerned, could + not as a gentleman do other than he did. And THIS is his reward? Ach Gott! + 'Coy!' And THIS, I warrant, is the way the story is delivered in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch would have answered that this was the way he read it in a + guidebook, but checked himself at the hopelessness of the explanation. + Besides, he was on the eve of historic information; he was, as it were, + interviewing the past; and, whether he would ever be able to profit by the + opportunity or not, he could not bear to lose it. “And how about the + Lorelei—is she, too, a fiction?” he asked glibly. + </p> + <p> + “It was said,” observed the baron sardonically, “that when thou + disappeared with the gamekeeper's daughter at Obercassel—Heaven + knows where!—thou wast swallowed up in a whirlpool with some + creature. Ach Gott! I believe it! But a truce to this balderdash. And so + thou wantest to know of the 'coy' sisters of Schoenberg? Hark ye, Jann, + that cousin of thine is a Schonberg. Call you her 'coy'? Did I not see thy + greeting? Eh? By St. Adolph, knowing thee as she does to be robber and + thief, call you her greeting 'coy'?” + </p> + <p> + Furious as Mr. Clinch inwardly became under these epithets, he felt that + his explanation would hardly relieve the maiden from deceit, or himself + from weakness. But out of his very perplexity and turmoil a bright idea + was born. He turned to the baron,— + </p> + <p> + “Then you have no faith in the Rhine legends?” + </p> + <p> + The baron only replied with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But what if I told you a new one?” + </p> + <p> + “You?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; a part of my experience?” + </p> + <p> + The baron was curious. It was early in the afternoon, just after dinner. + He might be worse bored. + </p> + <p> + “I've only one condition,” added Mr. Clinch: “the young lady—I mean, + of course, my cousin—must hear it too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ay! I see. Of course—the old trick! Well, call the jade. But + mark ye, Sir Nephew, no enchanted maidens and knights. Keep to thyself. Be + as thou art, vagabond Jann Kolnische, knight of the road.—What ho + there, scoundrels! Call the Lady Wilhemina.” + </p> + <p> + It was the first time Mr. Clinch had heard his fair friend's name; but it + was not, evidently, the first time she had seen him, as the very decided + wink the gentle maiden dropped him testified. Nevertheless, with hands + lightly clasped together, and downcast eyes, she stood before them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch began. Without heeding the baron's scornful grin, he + graphically described his meeting, two years before, with a Lorelei, her + usual pressing invitation, and his subsequent plunge into the Rhine. + </p> + <p> + “I am free to confess,” added Mr. Clinch, with an affecting glance to + Wilhelmina, “that I was not enamoured of the graces of the lady, but was + actuated by my desire to travel, and explore hitherto unknown regions. I + wished to travel, to visit—” + </p> + <p> + “Paris,” interrupted the baron sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “America,” continued Mr. Clinch. + </p> + <p> + “What?”—“America.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis a gnome-like sounding name, this Meriker. Go on, nephew: tell us of + Meriker.” + </p> + <p> + With the characteristic fluency of his nation, Mr. Clinch described his + landing on those enchanted shores, viz, the Rhine Whirlpool and Hell Gate, + East River, New York. He described the railways, tram-ways, telegraphs, + hotels, phonograph, and telephone. An occasional oath broke from the + baron, but he listened attentively; and in a few moments Mr. Clinch had + the raconteur's satisfaction of seeing the vast hall slowly filling with + open-eyed and open-mouthed retainers hanging upon his words. Mr. Clinch + went on to describe his astonishment at meeting on these very shores some + of his own blood and kin. “In fact,” said Mr. Clinch, “here were a race + calling themselves 'Clinch,' but all claiming to have descended from + Kolnische.” + </p> + <p> + “And how?” sneered the baron. + </p> + <p> + “Through James Kolnische and Wilhelmina his wife,” returned Mr. Clinch + boldly. “They emigrated from Koln and Crefeld to Philadelphia, where there + is a quarter named Crefeld.” Mr. Clinch felt himself shaky as to his + chronology, but wisely remembered that it was a chronology of the future + to his hearers, and they could not detect an anachronism. With his eyes + fixed upon those of the gentle Wilhelmina, Mr. Clinch now proceeded to + describe his return to his fatherland, but his astonishment at finding the + very face of the country changed, and a city standing on those fields he + had played in as a boy; and how he had wandered hopelessly on, until he at + last sat wearily down in a humble cottage built upon the ruins of a lordly + castle. “So utterly travel-worn and weak had I become,” said Mr. Clinch, + with adroitly simulated pathos, “that a single glass of wine offered me by + the simple cottage maiden affected me like a prolonged debauch.” + </p> + <p> + A long-drawn snore was all that followed this affecting climax. The baron + was asleep; the retainers were also asleep. Only one pair of eyes remained + open,—arch, luminous, blue,—Wilhelmina's. + </p> + <p> + “There is a subterranean passage below us to Linn. Let us fly!” she + whispered. + </p> + <p> + “But why?” + </p> + <p> + “They always do it in the legends,” she murmured modestly. + </p> + <p> + “But your father?” + </p> + <p> + “He sleeps. Do you not hear him?” + </p> + <p> + Certainly somebody was snoring. But, oddly enough, it seemed to be + Wilhelmina. Mr. Clinch suggested this to her. + </p> + <p> + “Fool, it is yourself!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch, struck with the idea, stopped to consider. She was right. It + certainly WAS himself. + </p> + <p> + With a struggle he awoke. The sun was shining. The maiden was looking at + him. But the castle—the castle was gone! + </p> + <p> + “You have slept well,” said the maiden archly. “Everybody does after + dinner at Sammtstadt. Father has just awakened, and is coming.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clinch stared at the maiden, at the terrace, at the sky, at the + distant chimneys of Sammtstadt, at the more distant Rhine, at the table + before him, and finally at the empty glass. The maiden smiled. “Tell me,” + said Mr. Clinch, looking in her eyes, “is there a secret passage + underground between this place and the Castle of Linn?” + </p> + <p> + “An underground passage?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay—whence the daughter of the house fled with a stranger knight.” + </p> + <p> + “They say there is,” said the maiden, with a gentle blush. + </p> + <p> + “Can you show it to me?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. “Papa is coming: I'll ask him.” + </p> + <p> + I presume she did. At least the Herr Consul at Sammtstadt informs me of a + marriage-certificate issued to one Clinch of Chicago, and Kolnische of + Koln; and there is an amusing story extant in the Verein at Sammtstadt, of + an American connoisseur of Rhine wines, who mistook a flask of Cognac and + rock-candy, used for “craftily qualifying” lower grades of wine to the + American standard, for the rarest Rudesheimerberg. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIEWS FROM A GERMAN SPION + </h2> + <p> + Outside of my window, two narrow perpendicular mirrors, parallel with the + casement, project into the street, yet with a certain unobtrusiveness of + angle that enables them to reflect the people who pass, without any + reciprocal disclosure of their own. The men and women hurrying by not only + do not know they are observed, but, what is worse, do not even see their + own reflection in this hypocritical plane, and are consequently unable, + through its aid, to correct any carelessness of garb, gait, or demeanor. + At first this seems to be taking an unfair advantage of the human animal, + who invariably assumes an attitude when he is conscious of being under + human focus. But I observe that my neighbors' windows, right and left, + have a similar apparatus, that this custom is evidently a local one, and + the locality is German. Being an American stranger, I am quite willing to + leave the morality of the transaction with the locality, and adapt myself + to the custom: indeed, I had thought of offering it, figuratively, as an + excuse for any unfairness of observation I might make in these pages. But + my German mirrors reflect without prejudice, selection, or comment; and + the American eye, I fear, is but mortal, and like all mortal eyes, + figuratively as well as in that literal fact noted by an eminent + scientific authority, infinitely inferior to the work of the best German + opticians. + </p> + <p> + And this leads me to my first observation, namely, that a majority of + those who pass my mirror have weak eyes, and have already invoked the aid + of the optician. Why are these people, physically in all else so much + stronger than my countrymen, deficient in eyesight? Or, to omit the + passing testimony of my Spion, and take my own personal experience, why + does my young friend Max, brightest of all schoolboys, who already wears + the cap that denotes the highest class,—why does he shock me by + suddenly drawing forth a pair of spectacles, that upon his fresh, rosy + face would be an obvious mocking imitation of the Herr Papa—if + German children could ever, by any possibility, be irreverent? Or why does + the Fraulein Marie, his sister, pink as Aurora, round as Hebe, suddenly + veil her blue eyes with a golden lorgnette in the midst of our polyglot + conversation? Is it to evade the direct, admiring glance of the impulsive + American? Dare I say NO? Dare I say that that frank, clear, honest, + earnest return of the eye, which has on the Continent most unfairly + brought my fair countrywomen under criticism, is quite as common to her + more carefully-guarded, tradition-hedged German sisters? No, it is not + that. Is it any thing in these emerald and opal tinted skies, which seem + so unreal to the American eye, and for the first time explain what seemed + the unreality of German art? in these mysterious yet restful Rhine fogs, + which prolong the twilight, and hang the curtain of romance even over + mid-day? Surely not. Is it not rather, O Herr Professor profound in + analogy and philosophy!—is it not rather this abominable + black-letter, this elsewhere-discarded, uncouth, slowly-decaying text + known as the German Alphabet, that plucks out the bright eyes of youth, + and bristles the gateways of your language with a chevaux de frise of + splintered rubbish? Why must I hesitate whether it is an accident of the + printer's press, or the poor quality of the paper, that makes this letter + a “k” or a “t”? Why must I halt in an emotion or a thought because “s” and + “f” are so nearly alike? Is it not enough that I, an impulsive American, + accustomed to do a thing first, and reflect upon it afterwards, must grope + my way through a blind alley of substantives and adjectives, only to find + the verb of action in an obscure corner, without ruining my eyesight in + the groping? + </p> + <p> + But I dismiss these abstract reflections for a fresh and active + resentment. This is the fifth or sixth dog that has passed my Spion, + harnessed to a small barrow-like cart, and tugging painfully at a burden + so ludicrously disproportionate to his size, that it would seem a + burlesque, but for the poor dog's sad sincerity. Perhaps it is because I + have the barbarian's fondness for dogs, and for their lawless, gentle, + loving uselessness, that I rebel against this unnatural servitude. It + seems as monstrous as if a child were put between the shafts, and made to + carry burdens; and I have come to regard those men and women, who in the + weakest perfunctory way affect to aid the poor brute by laying idle hands + on the barrow behind, as I would unnatural parents. Pegasus harnessed to + the Thracian herdsman's plough was no more of a desecration. I fancy the + poor dog seems to feel the monstrosity of the performance, and, in sheer + shame for his master, forgivingly tries to assume it is PLAY; and I have + seen a little “colley” running along, barking, and endeavoring to leap and + gambol in the shafts, before a load that any one out of this locality + would have thought the direst cruelty. Nor do the older or more powerful + dogs seem to become accustomed to it. When his cruel taskmaster halts with + his wares, instantly the dog, either by sitting down in his harness, or + crawling over the shafts, or by some unmistakable dog-like trick, utterly + scatters any such delusion of even the habit of servitude. The few of his + race who do not work in this ducal city seem to have lost their democratic + canine sympathies, and look upon him with something of that indifferent + calm with which yonder officer eyes the road-mender in the ditch below + him. He loses even the characteristics of species. The common cur and + mastiff look alike in harness. The burden levels all distinctions. I have + said that he was generally sincere in his efforts. I recall but one + instance to the contrary. I remember a young colley who first attracted my + attention by his persistent barking. Whether he did this, as the + plough-boy whistled, “for want of thought,” or whether it was a running + protest against his occupation, I could not determine, until one day I + noticed, that, in barking, he slightly threw up his neck and shoulders, + and that the two-wheeled barrow-like vehicle behind him, having its weight + evenly poised on the wheels by the trucks in the hands of its driver, + enabled him by this movement to cunningly throw the center of gravity and + the greater weight on the man,—a fact which that less sagacious + brute never discerned. Perhaps I am using a strong expression regarding + his driver. It may be that the purely animal wants of the dog, in the way + of food, care, and shelter, are more bountifully supplied in servitude + than in freedom; becoming a valuable and useful property, he may be cared + for and protected as such (an odd recollection that this argument had been + used forcibly in regard to human slavery in my own country strikes me + here); but his picturesqueness and poetry are gone, and I cannot help + thinking that the people who have lost this gentle, sympathetic, + characteristic figure from their domestic life and surroundings have not + acquired an equal gain through his harsh labors. + </p> + <p> + To the American eye there is, throughout the length and breadth of this + foreign city, no more notable and striking object than the average German + house-servant. It is not that she has passed my Spion a dozen times within + the last hour,—for here she is messenger, porter, and + commissionnaire, as well as housemaid and cook,—but that she is + always a phenomenon to the American stranger, accustomed to be abused in + his own country by his foreign Irish handmaiden. Her presence is as + refreshing and grateful as the morning light, and as inevitable and + regular. When I add that with the novelty of being well served is combined + the satisfaction of knowing that you have in your household an intelligent + being who reads and writes with fluency, and yet does not abstract your + books, nor criticise your literary composition; who is cleanly clad, and + neat in her person, without the suspicion of having borrowed her + mistress's dresses; who may be good-looking without the least imputation + of coquetry or addition to her followers; who is obedient without + servility, polite without flattery, willing and replete with + supererogatory performance, without the expectation of immediate pecuniary + return, what wonder that the American householder translated into German + life feels himself in a new Eden of domestic possibilities unrealized in + any other country, and begins to believe in a present and future of + domestic happiness! What wonder that the American bachelor living in + German lodgings feels half the terrors of the conjugal future removed, and + rushes madly into love—and housekeeping! What wonder that I, a + long-suffering and patient master, who have been served by the reticent + but too imitative Chinaman; who have been “Massa” to the childlike but + untruthful negro; who have been the recipient of the brotherly but + uncertain ministrations of the South-Sea Islander, and have been proudly + disregarded by the American aborigine, only in due time to meet the fate + of my countrymen at the hands of Bridget the Celt,—what wonder that + I gladly seize this opportunity to sing the praises of my German handmaid! + Honor to thee, Lenchen, wherever thou goest! Heaven bless thee in thy + walks abroad! whether with that tightly-booted cavalryman in thy Sunday + gown and best, or in blue polka-dotted apron and bare head as thou + trottest nimbly on mine errands,—errands which Bridget o'Flaherty + would scorn to undertake, or, undertaking, would hopelessly blunder in. + Heaven bless thee, child, in thy early risings and in thy later sittings, + at thy festive board overflowing with Essig and Fett, in the mysteries of + thy Kuchen, in the fulness of thy Bier, and in thy nightly suffocations + beneath mountainous and multitudinous feathers! Good, honest, + simple-minded, cheerful, duty-loving Lenchen! Have not thy brothers, + strong and dutiful as thou, lent their gravity and earnestness to sweeten + and strengthen the fierce youth of the Republic beyond the seas? and shall + not thy children inherit the broad prairies that still wait for them, and + discover the fatness thereof, and send a portion transmuted in glittering + shekels back to thee? + </p> + <p> + Almost as notable are the children whose round faces have as frequently + been reflected in my Spion. Whether it is only a fancy of mine that the + average German retains longer than any other race his childish simplicity + and unconsciousness, or whether it is because I am more accustomed to the + extreme self-assertion and early maturity of American children, I know + not; but I am inclined to believe that among no other people is childhood + as perennial, and to be studied in such characteristic and quaint and + simple phases as here. The picturesqueness of Spanish and Italian + childhood has a faint suspicion of the pantomime and the conscious + attitudinizing of the Latin races. German children are not exuberant or + volatile: they are serious,—a seriousness, however, not to be + confounded with the grave reflectiveness of age, but only the abstract + wonderment of childhood; for all those who have made a loving study of the + young human animal will, I think, admit that its dominant expression is + GRAVITY, and not playfulness, and will be satisfied that he erred + pitifully who first ascribed “light-heartedness” and “thoughtlessness” as + part of its phenomena. These little creatures I meet upon the street,—whether + in quaint wooden shoes and short woollen petticoats, or neatly booted and + furred, with school knapsacks jauntily borne upon little square shoulders,—all + carry likewise in their round chubby faces their profound wonderment and + astonishment at the big busy world into which they have so lately strayed. + If I stop to speak with this little maid who scarcely reaches to the + top-boots of yonder cavalry officer, there is less of bashful + self-consciousness in her sweet little face than of grave wonder at the + foreign accent and strange ways of this new figure obtruded upon her + limited horizon. She answers honestly, frankly, prettily, but gravely. + There is a remote possibility that I might bite; and, with this suspicion + plainly indicated in her round blue eyes, she quietly slips her little red + hand from mine, and moves solemnly away. I remember once to have stopped + in the street with a fair countrywoman of mine to interrogate a little + figure in sabots,—the one quaint object in the long, formal + perspective of narrow, gray bastard-Italian facaded houses of a Rhenish + German Strasse. The sweet little figure wore a dark-blue woollen petticoat + that came to its knees; gray woollen stockings covered the shapely little + limbs below; and its very blonde hair, the color of a bright dandelion, + was tied in a pathetic little knot at the back of its round head, and + garnished with an absurd green ribbon. Now, although this gentlewoman's + sympathies were catholic and universal, unfortunately their expression was + limited to her own mother-tongue. She could not help pouring out upon the + child the maternal love that was in her own womanly breast, nor could she + withhold the “baby-talk” through which it was expressed. But, alas! it was + in English. Hence ensued a colloquy, tender and extravagant on the part of + the elder, grave and wondering on the part of the child. But the lady had + a natural feminine desire for reciprocity, particularly in the presence of + our emotion-scorning sex, and as a last resource she emptied the small + silver of her purse into the lap of the coy maiden. It was a declaration + of love, susceptible of translation at the nearest cake-shop. But the + little maid, whose dress and manner certainly did not betray an habitual + disregard of gifts of this kind, looked at the coin thoughtfully, but not + regretfully. Some innate sense of duty, equally strong with that of being + polite to strangers, filled her consciousness. With the utterly unexpected + remark that her father 'did not allow her to take money', the queer little + figure moved away, leaving the two Americans covered with mortification. + The rare American child who could have done this would have done it with + an attitude. This little German bourgeoise did it naturally. I do not + intend to rush to the deduction that German children of the lower classes + habitually refuse pecuniary gratuities: indeed, I remember to have + wickedly suggested to my companion, that, to avoid impoverishment in a + foreign land, she should not repeat the story nor the experiment. But I + simply offer it as a fact, and to an American, at home or abroad, a novel + one. + </p> + <p> + I owe to these little figures another experience quite as strange. It was + at the close of a dull winter's day,—a day from which all + out-of-door festivity seemed to be naturally excluded: there was a baleful + promise of snow in the air and a dismal reminiscence of it under foot, + when suddenly, in striking contrast with the dreadful bleakness of the + street, a half dozen children, masked and bedizened with cheap ribbons, + spangles, and embroidery, flashed across my Spion. I was quick to + understand the phenomenon. It was the Carnival season. Only the night + before I had been to the great opening masquerade,—a famous affair, + for which this art-loving city is noted, and to which strangers are drawn + from all parts of the Continent. I remember to have wondered if the + pleasure-loving German in America had not broken some of his conventional + shackles in emigration; for certainly I had found the Carnival balls of + the “Lieder Kranz Society” in New York, although decorous and fashionable + to the American taste, to be wild dissipations compared with the practical + seriousness of this native performance, and I hailed the presence of these + children in the open street as a promise of some extravagance, real, + untrammelled, and characteristic. I seized my hat and—OVERCOAT,—a + dreadful incongruity to the spangles that had whisked by, and followed the + vanishing figures round the corner. Here they were re-enforced by a dozen + men and women, fantastically, but not expensively arrayed, looking not + unlike the supernumeraries of some provincial opera troupe. Following the + crowd, which already began to pour in from the side-streets, in a few + moments I was in the broad, grove-like allee, and in the midst of the + masqueraders. + </p> + <p> + I remember to have been told that this was a characteristic annual + celebration of the lower classes, anticipated with eagerness, and achieved + with difficulty, indeed, often only through the alternative of pawning + clothing and furniture to provide the means for this ephemeral + transformation. I remember being warned, also, that the buffoonery was + coarse, and some of the slang hardly fit for “ears polite.” But I am + afraid that I was not shocked at the prodigality of these poor people, who + purchased a holiday on such hard conditions; and, as to the coarseness of + the performance, I felt that I certainly might go where these children + could. + </p> + <p> + At first the masquerading figures appeared to be mainly composed of young + girls of ages varying from nine to eighteen. Their costumes—if what + was often only the addition of a broad, bright-colored stripe to the hem + of a short dress could be called a COSTUME—were plain, and seemed to + indicate no particular historical epoch or character. A general suggestion + of the peasant's holiday attire was dominant in all the costumes. + Everybody was closely masked. All carried a short, gayly-striped baton of + split wood, called a Pritsche, which, when struck sharply on the back or + shoulders of some spectator or sister-masker, emitted a clattering, + rasping sound. To wander hand in hand down this broad allee, to strike + almost mechanically, and often monotonously, at each other with their + batons, seemed to be the extent of that wild dissipation. The crowd + thickened. Young men with false noses, hideous masks, cheap black or red + cotton dominoes, soldiers in uniform, crowded past each other, up and down + the promenade, all carrying a Pritsche, and exchanging blows with each + other, but always with the same slow seriousness of demeanor, which, with + their silence, gave the performance the effect of a religious rite. + Occasionally some one shouted: perhaps a dozen young fellows broke out in + song; but the shout was provocative of nothing, the song faltered as if + the singers were frightened at their own voices. One blithe fellow, with a + bear's head on his fur-capped shoulders, began to dance; but, on the crowd + stopping to observe him seriously, he apparently thought better of it, and + slipped away. Nevertheless, the solemn beating of Pritschen over each + other's backs went on. I remember that I was followed the whole length of + the allee by a little girl scarcely twelve years old, in a bright striped + skirt and black mask, who from time to time struck me over the shoulders + with a regularity and sad persistency that was peculiarly irresistible to + me; the more so, as I could not help thinking that it was not half as + amusing to herself. Once only did the ordinary brusque gallantry of the + Carnival spirit show itself. A man with an enormous pair of horns, like a + half-civilized satyr, suddenly seized a young girl and endeavored to kiss + her. A slight struggle ensued, in which I fancied I detected in the girl's + face and manner the confusion and embarrassment of one who was obliged to + overlook, or seem to accept, a familiarity that was distasteful, rather + than be laughed at for prudishness or ignorance. But the incident was + exceptional. Indeed, it was particularly notable to my American eyes to + find such decorum where there might easily have been the greatest license. + I am afraid that an American mob of this class would have scarcely been as + orderly and civil under the circumstances. They might have shown more + humor; but there would have probably been more effrontery: they might have + been more exuberant; they would certainly have been drunker. I did not + notice a single masquerader unduly excited by liquor: there was not a word + or motion from the lighter sex that could have been construed into an + impropriety. There was something almost pathetic to me in this attempt to + wrest gayety and excitement out of these dull materials; to fight against + the blackness of that wintry sky, and the stubborn hardness of the frozen + soil, with these painted sticks of wood; to mock the dreariness of their + poverty with these flaunting raiments. It did not seem like them, or + rather, consistent with my idea of them. There was incongruity deeper than + their bizarre externals; a half-melancholy, half-crazy absurdity in their + action, the substitution of a grim spasmodic frenzy for levity, that + rightly or wrongly impressed me. When the increasing gloom of the evening + made their figures undistinguishable, I turned into the first + cross-street. As I lifted my hat to my persistent young friend with the + Pritsche, I fancied she looked as relieved as myself. If, however, I was + mistaken; if that child's pathway through life be strewn with rosy + recollections of the unresisting back of the stranger American; if any + burden, O Gretchen! laid upon thy young shoulders, be lighter for the + trifling one thou didst lay upon mine,—know, then, that I, too, am + content. + </p> + <p> + And so, day by day, has my Spion reflected the various changing forms of + life before it. It has seen the first flush of spring in the broad allee, + when the shadows of tiny leaflets overhead were beginning to checker the + cool, square flagstones. It has seen the glare and fulness of summer + sunshine and shadow, the flying of November gold through the air, the + gaunt limbs, and stark, rigid, death-like whiteness of winter. It has seen + children in their queer, wicker baby-carriages, old men and women, and + occasionally that grim usher of death, in sable cloak and cocked hat,—a + baleful figure for the wandering invalid tourist to meet,—who acts + as undertaker for this ducal city, and marshals the last melancholy + procession. I well remember my first meeting with this ominous + functionary. It was an early autumnal morning; so early, that the long + formal perspective of the allee, and the decorous, smooth vanishing-lines + of cream-and-gray fronted houses, were unrelieved by a single human + figure. Suddenly a tall black spectre, as theatrical and as unreal as the + painted scenic distance, turned the corner from a cross-street, and moved + slowly towards me. A long black cloak, falling from its shoulders to its + feet, floated out on either side like sable wings; a cocked hat trimmed + with crape, and surmounted by a hearse-like feather, covered a passionless + face; and its eyes, looking neither left nor right, were fixed fatefully + upon some distant goal. Stranger as I was to this Continental ceremonial + figure, there was no mistaking his functions as the grim messenger, + knocking “with equal foot” on every door; and, indeed, so perfectly did he + act and look his role, that there was nothing ludicrous in the + extraordinary spectacle. Facial expression and dignity of bearing were + perfect; the whole man seemed saturated with the accepted sentiment of his + office. Recalling the half-confused and half-conscious ostentatious + hypocrisy of the American sexton, the shameless absurdities of the English + mutes and mourners, I could not help feeling, that, if it were demanded + that Grief and Fate should be personified, it were better that it should + be well done. And it is one observation of my Spion, that this sincerity + and belief is the characteristic of all Continental functionaries. + </p> + <p> + It is possible that my Spion has shown me little that is really + characteristic of the people, and the few observations I have made I offer + only as an illustration of the impressions made upon two-thirds of + American strangers in the larger towns of Germany. Assimilation goes on + more rapidly than we are led to imagine. As I have seen my friend Karl, + fresh and awkward in his first uniform, lounging later down the allee with + the blase listlessness of a full-blown militaire, so I have seen American + and English residents gradually lose their peculiarities, and melt and + merge into the general mass. Returning to my Spion after a flying trip + through Belgium and France, as I look down the long perspective of the + Strasse, I am conscious of recalling the same style of architecture and + humanity at Aachen, Brussels, Lille, and Paris, and am inclined to believe + that, even as I would have met, in a journey of the same distance through + a parallel of the same latitude in America, a greater diversity of type + and character, and a more distinct flavor of locality, even so would I + have met a more heterogeneous and picturesque display from a club window + on Fifth Avenue, New York, or Montgomery Street, San Francisco. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Twins of Table Mountain and Other +Stories, by Bret Harte + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN *** + +***** This file should be named 2862-h.htm or 2862-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/2862/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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