XXX
Gwynne found Isabel just stepping out of her launch, after a businessmorning in Rosewater, and was hospitably invited to dismount and remainfor luncheon.
"Would you mind asking your Jap to make us some sandwiches and come withme up to my mountain shanty?" he asked. "I have rather a headache andwant a long ride. Besides, it is high time I went. I should look overthe roads, which they tell me are very bad after the heavy rains. I wantto go into camp there in the early spring--have invited Hofer and one ortwo others for salmon-fishing. I have now sent three letters to thetenant, one Clink, by teamsters, and he has never replied. For all Iknow he may have burned the house down and decamped. So, altogether,this seems to me the time to go, and it would be very jolly to have youwith me."
"I'd like nothing better," said Isabel, delightedly, "after talking eggsand chickens all morning. And I haven't been up to Mountain House foryears. It used to belong to Uncle Hiram, you know. He always fishedthere in the spring, and took me with him. Then Mr. Colton bought itin--I won't be ten minutes."
"Now I know why you wear that hideous divided habit and ride astride,"said Gwynne as they started. "I have been half-way up the mountain onceor twice, to say nothing of the Marin hills, and I have never seen suchroads. They are a disgrace to the State. Why on earth doesn't thelegislature take them in hand?"
"Now _I_ know _you_ are in a bad humor," said Isabel, laughing. "Yougrumbled at everything when you first came to California, and now thatyou have become philosophical like the rest of us, you only anathematizewhen you are put out. I saw something was wrong the moment you arrived.What is it?"
"I'll tell you later. This is our only chance for a sharp trot."
It was quite two miles to the ascending road at the foot of the mountainrange that divided the great valley. It rose gently for a time thensuddenly became steep. Lumpy and slanting, already dangerously narrow inmany places, for there had been a few days of hard rain, it led alongthe edge of cannons and chasms, creeks and little valleys as round asa bowl. Here and there was a farmhouse or a country home on a slope, setin the midst of fields just turning green. The first stretch ofroad--cut roughly in the mountain-side and then left to take care ofitself--was on county property, but after an hour's climb along theflank of the mountain they reached the part of the great mass includedin Lumalitas, where the road, although still public, had been mended nowand again by tenants that had used the camp in the fishing season.
"It is even worse than I thought," grumbled Gwynne. "I wonder if TomColton could be induced to put in a bill at the next legislature. Itwould be a good opportunity for him to make a promise with some hope offulfilment."
"The trouble is the farmers don't care," said Isabel, shrugging hershoulders. "There are only a few of them in the mountains and they havejogged up and down these bad roads so many years that they accept themas a matter of course. I don't know that I mind this, myself. Itcertainly is more picturesque than if it had become popular withautomobilists of much influence in legislative councils."
"At present you have to ride with your eyes on the road to make sure itis there."
"We can take turns, and it certainly is beautiful."
"Oh, beautiful!"
But when the road improved for quite half a mile, he too gave himself upto the sensation of being lost in the heart of a mountain. The valleywas far behind them and out of sight. There were groves of ancient oaksin the hollows, turbulent streams foaming over masses of rocks that hadfallen from the cliffs above. Sometimes they looked down a thousandsheer feet into a bit of wilderness as unbroken as if on each side ofthe range man had not snatched the fertile lands from the savage acentury before.
The air grew colder and Isabel put on her covert coat. But it was aclear sparkling day, and when they reached the summit they could see SanFrancisco, a smoky mirage forty miles to the south, the ferry-boatscrawling like beetles across the bay, the surf of the ocean on the rocksbeyond the Golden Gate, a vast sweep of gray ocean; and the bulk ofTamalpais, that from this high point looked as if it had heaved itselffree of the mass of mountains and forests about it. Two thousand feetbelow, their own valley, with its marsh and fertile ranches, looked likea dark ribbon between the hills, Rosewater like a toy village.
They trotted their horses for a few moments on the level and then rodedown into the little valley where an unsuccessful farmer of solitaryhabit had some time since rented the few acres of land surroundingMountain House, with the understanding that the best rooms were to be atthe disposal of the lord of Lumalitas during the fishing and huntingseasons. The log-house, or "camp," was very solid and had been built bythe first James Otis, who was a mighty hunter; and the salmon-fishing inthe creek, at present containing but a few feet of water, was so finethat hardly a spring had passed without a visit from the tenants ofLumalitas, who were constrained by the terms of the lease to keep thehouse in repair. Of late this had been the duty of the sub-lessee, andas no teams passed his isolated dwelling, and as he had not seen fit toanswer his landlord's communications, even verbally, by the boy from oneof the lower ranches who had carried up the missives, all Gwynne knewwas that Mr. Clink was alive, and that the ranch was free of winterdebris.
They found the gentleman sitting on a stump. He had a hand on eitherknee, and his small watery unblinking eyes were fixed on space. A beard,narrow and grizzled and stained, rested on his lean front, or stirredgently in the breeze. He neither rose, nor otherwise noticed theapproach of his visitors.
Gwynne called, shouted, approached the verge of profanity, but he mightas well have addressed the silent forest.
Isabel elevated her nose. "To use the vernacular, he is on a long, slow,melancholy jag. I will go in and see how he keeps the house. It needs anairing at least. Every window is closed and probably has been allwinter."
She remained in-doors half an hour, putting things to rights with manymysterious touches known only to her sex. When she returned to Gwynneshe found him sunning himself on the porch with his back to Mr. Clink,who stolidly regarded an old stump of geranium.
"It is clean enough," she said. "But when you come, bring newblankets--or send them, and your provisions--the day before you bringyour guests. I will come up with them and see that everything is inorder. I might also turn the hose on Clink, if he has chosen thatoccasion to drench himself inside. At all events bring a cook--you canhave Chuma; these people never can cook anything but fried meat andpotatoes."
Drifted leaves lay on the porch a foot deep. Isabel found a broom andswept vigorously, snubbing Gwynne's offer to do it himself. He watchedher, crossly reflecting that she was never so unattractive as in thatdust-colored divided habit, and wishing that he had waited for theevening hour; even if infrequently seductive, she was always lovely in abecoming gown.
Finally, her labors over, she dusted an aged rocking-chair and sat down,fanning herself with her hat. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyessparkling, but she turned to look at the beautiful creek that had tornits way through the forest, and Gwynne suddenly felt that he hated herprofile. During the last few weeks he had lost that sense of a constantand secret contest of wills, perhaps because his own had proved thestronger in the final engagement; perhaps, who knew? because shepossessed all the infernal subtlety of the Spaniard. But her profilesuggested relentless power, and he still had a secret hankering for theold-fashioned submissive female, liberal and indulgent to the sex as hewas. He had reflected that he had met so many handsome finely developedgirls, with a sufficiency of animated brightness, but well within thetype, during the past few weeks, that it was rather odd he had not beencaptured; particularly as several of the most ripping would addmaterially to his fortunes. But he had come to the conclusion sometimesince, when he hardly knew, that he would prefer to remain unmarried,and enjoy the intimate companionship of a congenial and interestingcreature like Isabel, whom he never quite understood. He cursed thestale old conventions that interfered with his desires.
Isabel turned suddenly and smiled. "How fierce you look!" she
said."What is the matter?"
"Everything. Some one, Mrs. Haight, I suppose, saw me riding home onyour horse at three o'clock yesterday morning, and the whole town is bythe ears. Judge Leslie undertook to break the news to me, and I told himI had gone out to propose, and then ridden about the country to calm myraging fires. I feel that I owe it to you to propose in good earnest,and such as I am you are welcome to me."
"I never heard such a graceful proposal. I wouldn't marry you ifRosewater stood on its head."
"I was rather brutal about it, and I must honestly confess that I'm notparticularly keen on marrying you, but I think we'll have to marry, orbe deuced uncomfortable--"
"Oh, nothing to what we should be if married. And Rosewater to me is amere market for chickens and eggs. The only punishment they couldinflict on me would be to burn down the hatcheries. I hate to botherwith incubators."
Gwynne stood up and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "We must beserious," he said. "They are really malignant about it. I have felt itin the air for some time. Every time I pass that she-devil, Mrs. Haight,on Main Street, her eyes contract with a sort of malicious warning.'Just you wait!' is the way she would phrase it. And I always _feel_ herat her window when I ride home late. No woman of your age and beauty candefy public opinion alone. The world--and scandal spreads like a plague;San Francisco is only forty miles from Rosewater--the world can hurt youin a thousand ways, ruin your life. I really am only too willing toprotect you, and I hope that you will marry me. I am sure we should getalong--after a bit."
"That was better. But I will not be driven into matrimony by gossip, oreven scandal. That is no part of my scheme of life. And I know Rosewaterbetter than you do. Mrs. Leslie, Anabel, Mrs. Colton, many of the mostpowerful, would never believe a word against me."
"Not at first. But malicious tongues will wear the gloss from thebest-befriended reputation in time. The kindest natures areconventional; and susceptible to all that take, or seem to take, a placein the ranks of established facts."
"I won't do it," said Isabel, stubbornly; and as she turned her profileto him he almost swore aloud. "I shall conquer, or prove the wholemodern game of woman a sham, a fool's paradise. I told you that I hadset myself to drag strength out of the unknown forces. Well, I proposeto use it now. And in your behalf as much as mine."
"I can take care of myself.... I even think I could face the prospect ofbecoming your husband with a reasonable amount of equanimity." She waslooking straight at him again, her face deeply flushed, her eyesshining. "It never occurred to me before, but I believe that if youwould permit yourself to develop, you might become the most fascinatingwoman in the world. And if you did, I swear that you should be happy."
"I am happy, and in my own way. I get something out of every moment. Doyou think I am going to run the risk of losing all that for anything sodubious as this old game of sex?"
"Very good game if it is played properly. I have a mind to teach you."
"Well, you will not!"
"I think I shall. It is either marry you or leave California."
"That is a threat unworthy of you."
"No threat at all. If you will not permit me to protect you in one way Imust in another. I leave and throw everything over with great eclat. Youhave discarded me and I cannot stand the proximity."
"They might merely think that you were running away from me."
"I shall take good care they think what I choose. Women are moreromantic and sentimental than malignant, the bulk. All they want is astarter."
"But you need not leave California. You can move to San Francisco."
"Now you are talking like a child. I shall return to England. As to myAmerican career, my only chance lies here. I hate the rest of thecountry, and the best material is in California, anyhow. Yesterday Ireceived a letter from my solicitor, enclosing one from Jimmy, whoinformed me that I was on every tongue, that the public curiosity waspiqued, that the newspapers were demanding that I should return andaccept my responsibilities, and that without doubt a place would be madefor me in the new Liberal Cabinet. It is a propitious moment forreturn. If there is a time when a Liberal peer can make any running itis when his party is in power."
There was a pause for several moments. Gwynne filled and lit anotherpipe. Isabel stared at a ring she twisted about her finger, Mr. Clink atthe geranium stump. The low dull roar in the forest tops was unceasing,but for other sound of life they might have swung off into space.
Finally Isabel spoke. "I won't marry you," she said. "But all ends willbe served if we announce an engagement. We can state that we think itbest not to marry until your law studies are concluded. It can bepostponed once or twice on other pretexts, then fall through. By thattime gossip will be forgotten, people will have lost interest in us. InSan Francisco they are not likely to hear of this at all, or if they doit will not matter, and if you fall in love with any of the _cotillon_beauties I will release you in due form and give you my blessing."
"I have not the least intention of undertaking life with a _cotillon_beauty. Your compromise will do for the present, but you will understandthat my proposal is a bona fide one, should you arrive at a morerational frame of mind."
"I sha'n't fall a victim to any irrational state of mind. I won't marry.Why, even people that like me too much interfere with my sense ofliberty."
Gwynne laughed. "We had better be starting," he said.
Ancestors: A Novel Page 49
