by Bret Harte
CHAPTER I.
MR. AND MRS. CONROY AT HOME.
The manner in which One Horse Gulch received the news of GabrielConroy's marriage was characteristic of that frank and outspokencommunity. Without entering upon the question of his previous shamelessflirtation with Mrs. Markle--the baleful extent of which was generallyunknown to the camp--the nearer objections were based upon the fact thatthe bride was a stranger and consequently an object of suspicion, andthat Gabriel's sphere of usefulness in a public philanthropic capacitywould be seriously impaired and limited. His very brief courtship didnot excite any surprise in a climate where the harvest so promptlyfollowed the sowing, and the fact, now generally known, that it was hewho saved the woman's life after the breaking of the dam at Black Ca[~n]on,was accepted as a sufficient reason for his success in that courtship.It may be remarked here that a certain grim disbelief in femininecoyness obtained at One Horse Gulch. That the conditions of life therewere as near the perfect and original condition of mankind as could befound anywhere, and that the hollow shams of society and weak artificesof conventionalism could not exist in that sincere atmosphere, were twobeliefs that One Horse Gulch never doubted.
Possibly there was also some little envy of Gabriel's success, an envynot based upon any evidence of his superior courage, skill, or strength,but only of the peculiar "luck," opportunity, or providence, that hadenabled him to turn certain qualities very common to One Horse Gulch tosuch favourable account.
"Toe think," said Jo. Briggs, "thet I was allowin'--only thet veryafternoon--to go up that ca[~n]on arter game, and didn't go from somederned foolishness or other, and yer's Gabe, hevin' no call to go thar,jest comes along, accidental like, and, dern my skin! but he strikesonto a purty gal and a wife the first lick!"
"Thet's so," responded Barker, "it's all luck. Thar's thet Cy. Dudley,with plenty o' money and wantin' a wife bad, and ez is goin' toSacramento to-morrow to prospect fur one, and he hez been up and downthat ca[~n]on time outer mind, and no dam ever said 'break' to him! No,sir! Or take my own case; on'y last week when the Fiddletown coach wentover the bank at Dry Creek, wasn't I the fust man thar ez cut theleaders adrift and bruk open the coach-door and helped out thepassengers? And wot passengers? Six Chinymen by Jinks--and a Greaser!Thet's my luck."
There were few preliminaries to the marriage. The consent of Olly waseasily gained. As an act of aggression and provocation towards Mrs.Markle, nothing could offer greater inducements. The superior gentilityof the stranger, the fact of her being a stranger, and theexpeditiousness of the courtship coming so hard upon Mrs. Markle'sfickleness commended itself to the child's sense of justice and feminineretaliation. For herself, Olly hardly knew if she liked her prospectivesister; she was gentle, she was kind, she seemed to love Gabriel--butOlly was often haunted by a vague instinct that Mrs. Markle would havebeen a better match--and with true feminine inconsistency she hated herthe more for it. Possibly she tasted also something of thedisappointment of the baffled match-maker in the depths of her childishconsciousness.
It may be fairly presumed that the former Mrs. Devarges had confided tono one but her lawyer the secret of her assumption of the character ofGrace Conroy. How far or how much more she had confided to thatgentleman was known only to himself; he kept her secret, whatever mighthave been its extent, and received the announcement of her intendedmarriage to Gabriel with the superior smile of one to whom all thingsare possible from the unprofessional sex.
"Now that you are about to enter into actual possession," said Mr.Maxwell, quietly buttoning up his pocket again, "I suppose you will notrequire my services immediately."
It is said, upon what authority I know not, that Madame Devarges blushedslightly, heaved the least possible sigh as she shook her head and said,"I hope not," with an evident sincerity that left her legal adviser insome slight astonishment.
How far her intended husband participated in this confidence I do notknow. He was evidently proud of alluding to her in the few brief days ofhis courtship as the widow of the "great Doctor Devarges," and hisknowledge of her former husband to some extent mitigated in the publicmind the apparent want of premeditation in the courtship.
"To think of the artfulness of that man," said Sal, confidentially, toMrs. Markle, "and he a-gettin' up sympathy about his sufferin's atStarvation Camp, and all the while a-carryin' on with the widder of oneo' them onfortunets. No wonder that man was queer! Wot you allowed inthe innocents o' yer heart was bashfulness was jest conscience. I neverlet on to ye, Mrs. Markle, but I allus noticed thet thet Gabe nevercould meet my eye."
The flippant mind might have suggested that as both of Miss Sarah's eyeswere afflicted with a cast, there might have been a physical impedimentto this exchange of frankness, but then the flippant mind never enjoyedthe confidence of this powerful young woman.
It was a month after the wedding, and Mrs. Markle was sitting alone inher parlour, whither she had retired after the professional duties ofsupper were over, when the front door opened, and Sal entered. It wasSunday evening, and Sal had been enjoying the brief recreation of gossipwith the neighbours, and, as was alleged by the flippant mind beforealluded to, some coquettish conversation and dalliance with certainyouth of One Horse Gulch.
Mrs. Markle watched her handmaid slowly remove an immense straw "flat"trimmed with tropical flowers, and then proceed to fold away an enormousplaid shawl which represented quite another zone, and then her curiositygot the better of her prudence.
"Well, and how did ye find the young couple gettin' on, Sal?"
Sal too well understood the value of coyly-withheld information toanswer at once, and with the instincts of a true artist, she affected tomisunderstand her mistress. When Mrs. Markle had repeated her questionSal replied, with a a sarcastic laugh--
"Axin yer pardin fur manners, but you let on about the _young_ couple,and _she_ forty if she's anythin'."
"Oh, no, Sal," remonstrated Mrs. Markle, with reproachful accents, andyet a certain self-satisfaction; "you're mistaken, sure."
"Well," said Sal, breathlessly slapping her hands on her lap, "if pearlpowder and another woman's har and fancy doin's beggiles folks, it ain'tSal ez is among the folks fooled. No, Sue Markle. Ef I ain't lived longenough with a woman ez owns to thirty-three and hez--ef it wuz my lastwords and God is my jedge--the neck and arms of a gal of sixteen, not toknow when a woman is trying to warm over the scraps of forty year with akind o' hash o' twenty, then Sal Clark ain't got no eyes, thet's all."
Mrs. Markle blushed slightly under the direct flattery of Sal, andcontinued--
"Some folks says she's purty."
"Some men's meat is other men's pizen," responded Sal, sententiously,unfastening an enormous black velvet zone, and apparently permitting herfigure to fall into instant ruin.
"How did they look?" said Mrs. Markle, after a pause, recommencing herdarning, which she had put down.
"Well, purty much as I allowed they would from the first. Thar ain't anylove wasted over thar. My opinion is thet he's sick of his bargin. Sheruns the house and ev'ry thing that's in it. Jest look at the critter!She's just put that thar Gabe up to prospecting all along the ledgehere, and that fool's left his diggin's and hez been running hither andyon, making ridiklus holes all over the hill jest to satisfy thet woman,and she ain't satisfied neither. Take my word for it, Sue Markle, thar'ssuthin' wrong thar. And then thar's thet Olly"----
Mrs. Markle raised her eyes quickly, and put down her work. "Olly," sherepeated, with great animation--"poor little Olly! what's gone of her?"
"Well," said Sal, with an impatient toss of her head, "I never did seewhat thar wuz in that peart and sassy piece for any one to taketo--leastwise a woman with a child of her own. The airs and graces thetthet Olly would put on wuz too much. Why, she hedn't been nigh us for amonth, and the day afore the wedding what does that limb do but meet meand sez, sez she, 'Sal, ye kin tell Mrs. Markle as my brother Gabe ezgoin' to marry a lady--a lady,' sez she. 'Thar ain't goin' to be ennyPikes about our cabin.' And thet
child only eight years! Oh, git outthar! I ain't no patience!"
To the infinite credit of a much abused sex, be it recorded that Mrs.Markle overlooked the implied slur, and asked--
"But what about Olly?"
"I mean to say," said Sal, "thet thet child hain't no place in thethouse, and thet Gabe is jest thet weak and mean spirited ez to let thetwoman have her own way. No wonder thet the child was crying when I mether out in the woods yonder."
Mrs. Markle instantly flushed, and her black eyes snapped ominously. "Ishould jest like to ketch--" she began quickly, and then stopped andlooked at her companion. "Sal," she said, with swift vehemence, "I mustsee thet child."
"How?"
The word in Sal's dialect had a various, large, and catholicsignificance. Mrs. Markle understood it, and repeated briefly--
"Olly--I must see her--right off!"
"Which?" continued Sal.
"Here," replied Mrs. Markle; "anywhere. Fetch her when ye kin."
"She won't come."
"Then I'll go to her," said Mrs. Markle, with a sudden andcharacteristic determination that closed the conversation and sent Salback viciously to her unwashed dishes.
Whatever might have been the truth of Sal's report, there was certainlyno general external indication of the facts. The newly-married couplewere, to all appearances, as happy and contented, and as enviable to themasculine inhabitants of One Horse Gulch, as any who had ever built anest within its pastoral close. If a majority of Gabriel's visitor weregentlemen, it was easily attributed to the preponderance of males in thesettlement. If these gentlemen were unanimously extravagant in theirpraise of Mrs. Conroy, it was as easily attributable to the same cause.That Gabriel should dig purposeless holes over the hill-side, that heshould for the time abandon his regular occupation in his little modestclaim in the ca[~n]on, was quite consistent with the ambition of anewly-married man.
A few evenings after this, Gabriel Conroy was sitting alone by thehearth of that new house, which popular opinion and the tastes of Mrs.Conroy seemed to think was essential to his new condition. It was alarger, more ambitious, more expensive, and perhaps less comfortabledwelling than the one in which he has been introduced to the reader. Itwas projected upon that credit which a man of family was sure to obtainin One Horse Gulch, where the immigration and establishment of familiesand household centres were fostered even at pecuniary risks. Itcontained, beside the chambers, the gratuitous addition of a parlour,which at this moment was adorned and made attractive by the presence ofMrs. Conroy, who was entertaining a few visitors that, under herattractions, had prolonged their sitting until late. When the laugh hadceased and the door closed on the last lingering imbecile, Mrs. Conroyreturned to the sitting-room. It was dark, for Gabriel had not lighted acandle yet, and he was occupying his favourite seat and attitude beforethe fire.
"Why! are _you_ there?" said Mrs. Conroy, gaily.
Gabriel looked up, and with that seriousness which was habitual to him,replied--
"Yes."
Mrs. Conroy approached her lord and master, and ran her thin, claw-likefingers through his hair with married audacity. He caught them, heldthem for a moment with a kindly, caressing, and yet slightly embarrassedair that the lady did not like. She withdrew them quickly.
"Why didn't you come into the parlour?" she said, examining himcuriously.
"I didn't admire to to-night," returned Gabriel, with grave simplicity,"and I reckoned you'd get on as well without me."
There was not the slightest trace of bitterness nor aggrievedsensitiveness in his tone or manner, and although Mrs. Conroy eyed himsharply for any latent spark of jealousy, she was forced to admit toherself that it did not exist in the quiet, serious man before her.Vaguely aware of some annoyance in his wife's face, Gabriel reached outhis arm, and, lightly taking her around her waist, drew her to his knee.But the very act was so evidently a recognition of a certain kind ofphysical and moral weakness in the creature before him--soprofessional--so, as Mrs. Conroy put it to herself,--"like as if I werea sick man," that her irritation was not soothed. She rose quickly andseated herself on the other side of the fireplace. With the same impliedtoleration Gabriel had already displayed, he now made no attempt torestrain her.
Mrs. Conroy did not pout as another woman might have done. She onlysmiled a haggard smile that deepened the line of her nostril into hercheek, and pinched her thin, straight nose. Then she said, looking atthe fire--
"Ain't you well?"
"I reckon not--not overly well."
There was a silence, both looking at the fire.
"You don't get anything out of that hill-side?" asked Mrs. Conroy atlast, pettishly.
"No," said Gabriel.
"You have prospected all over the ridge?" continued the woman,impatiently.
"All over!"
"And you don't find anything?"
"Nothin'," said Gabriel. "Nary. Thet is," he added with his usualcautious deliberation, "thet is, nothin' o' any account. The gold, efthere is any, lies lower down in the gulch, whar I used to dig. But Ikept at it jest to satisfy your whim. You know, July, it _was_ a whim ofyours," he continued, with a certain gentle deprecatoriness of manner.
A terrible thought flashed suddenly upon Mrs. Conroy. Could Dr. Devargeshave made a mistake? Might he not have been delirious or insane when hewrote of the treasure? Or had the Secretary deceived her as to itslocation? A swift and sickening sense that all she had gained, or was togain, from her scheme, was the man before her--and that _he_ did notlove her as other men had--asserted itself through her tremblingconsciousness. Mrs. Conroy had already begun to fear that she loved thishusband, and it was with a new sense of yearning and dependence that shein her turn looked deprecatingly and submissively into his face andsaid--
"It _was_ only a whim, dear--I dare say a foolish one. It's gone now.Don't mind it!"
"I don't," said Gabriel, simply.
Mrs. Conroy winced.
"I thought you looked disappointed," she said after a pause.
"It ain't that I was thinkin' on, July; it's Olly," said Gabriel.
There is a limit even to a frightened woman's submission.
"Of course," she said, sharply; "Olly, Olly again and always. I ought tohave remembered that."
"Thet's so," said Gabriel with the same exasperating quiet. "I wasreckonin' jest now, ez there don't seem to be any likeliness of you andOlly's gettin' on together, you'd better separate. Thar ain't no sensegoin' on this way, July--no sense et all. And the worst o' the hullthing ez thet Olly ain't gettin' no kinder good outer it, no way!"
Mrs. Conroy was very pale and dangerously quiet as Mr. Conroy went on.
"I've allers allowed to send that child to school, but she don't keer togo. She's thet foolish, thet Olly is, thet she doesn't like to leave me,and I reckon I'm thet foolish too thet I don't like to hev her go. Theonly way to put things square ez this"----
Mrs. Conroy turned and fixed her grey eyes upon her husband, but she didnot speak.
"You'd better go away," continued Gabriel, quietly, "for a while. I'veheerd afore now that it's the reg'lar thing fur a bride to go away andvisit her mother. You hain't got no mother," said Gabriel thoughtfully,"hev ye?--that's bad. But you was a sayin' the other day suthin' aboutsome business you had down at 'Frisco. Now it would be about the nateralsort o' thing for ye to go thar fur two or three months, jest tillthings get round square with Olly and me."
It is probable that Gabriel was the only man from whom Mrs. Conroy couldhave received this humiliating proposition without interrupting him witha burst of indignation. Yet she only turned a rigid face towards thefire again with a hysterical laugh.
"Why limit my stay to two or three months?" she said.
"Well, it might be four," said Gabriel, simply--"it would give me andOlly a longer time to get things in shape."
Mrs. Conroy rose and walked rigidly to her husband's side.
"What," she said huskily, "what if I were to refuse?"
Gabriel looked as if thi
s suggestion would not have been startling orinconsistent as an abstract possibility in woman, but said nothing.
"What," continued Mrs. Conroy, more rapidly and huskily, "what if I wereto tell _you_ and that brat to go! What," she said, suddenly raising hervoice to a thin high soprano, "what if I were to turn you both out ofthis house--_my_ house! off this land--_my_ land! Eh? eh? eh?" shealmost screamed, emphasising each interrogatory with her thin hand onGabriel's shoulder, in a desperate but impotent attempt to shake him.
"Certingly, certingly," said Gabriel calmly. "But thar's somebody at thedoor, July," he continued quietly, as he rose slowly and walked into thehall.
His quick ear had detected a knocking without, above the truculent pitchof Mrs. Conroy's voice. He threw open the door, and disclosed Olly andSal standing upon the threshold.
It is scarcely necessary to say that Sal was first to recover the use ofthat noble organ, the tongue.
"With chills and ager in every breath--it's an hour if it's five minutesthat we've stood here," she began, "pounding at that door. 'You'reinterrupting the young couple, Sal,' sez I, 'comin' yer this time o'night, breakin' in, so to speak, on the holiest confidences,' sez I;'but it's business, and onless you hev thet to back you, Sarah Clark,' Isez, 'and you ain't a woman ez ever turned her back on thet or them, youain't no call there.' But I was to fetch this child home, Mrs. Conroy,"continued Sal, pushing her way into the little sitting-room, "and"----
She paused, for the room was vacant. Mrs. Conroy had disappeared.
"I thought I heerd"----said Sal, completely taken aback.
"It was only Gabe," said Olly, with the ready mendacity of swiftfeminine tact. "I told you so. Thank you, Sal, for seeing me home. Goodnight, Sal," and, with a dexterity that smote Gabriel into awesome andadmiring silence, she absolutely led the breathless Sal to the door andclosed it upon her before that astonished female could recover herspeech.
Then she returned quietly, took off her hat and shawl, and taking theunresisting hand of her brother, led him back to his former seat by thefire. Drawing a low stool in front of him, she proceeded to nestlebetween his knees--an old trick of hers--and once more taking his hand,stroked it between her brown fingers, looked up into his face, andsaid--
"Dear old Gabe!"
The sudden smile that irradiated Gabriel's serious face would have beeneven worse provocation to Mrs. Conroy than his previous conduct.
"What was the matter, Gabe?" said Olly; "what was she saying when wecame in?"
Gabriel had not, since the entrance of his sister, thought of Mrs.Conroy's parting speech and manner. Even now its full significance didnot appear to have reached him.
"I disremember, Olly," he replied, looking down into Olly's earnesteyes, "suthin' or other; she was techy, thet's all."
"But wot did she mean by saying that the house and lands was hers?"persisted the child.
"Married folks, Olly," said Gabriel, with the lazy, easy manner of vastmatrimonial experience, "married folks hev little jokes and ways o'thar own. Bein' onmarried yourself, ye don't know. 'With all my worldlygoods I thee endow,' thet's all--thet's what she meant, Olly. 'With allmy worldly goods I thee endow.' Did you hev a good time down there?"
"Yes," said Olly.
"You'll hev a nice time here soon, Olly," said Gabriel.
Olly looked incredulously across the hall toward the door of Mrs.Conroy's chamber.
"Thet's it, Olly," said Gabriel, "Mrs. Conroy's goin' to 'Frisco to seesome friends. She's thet bent on goin' thet nothin' 'il stop her. Yesee, Olly, it's the fashion fur new married folks to kinder go way andvisit absent and sufferin' friends. Thar's them little ways about themarried state, that, bein' onmarried yourself, you don't sabe. But it'sall right, she's goin'. Bein' a lady, and raised, so to speak, 'mongfashi'n'ble people, she's got to folly the fashin. She's goin' for threemonths, mebbe four. I disremember now wot's the fashi'n'ble time. Butshe'll do it, Olly."
Olly cast a penetrating look at her brother.
"She ain't goin' on my account, Gabe?"
"Lord love the child, no! Wot put thet into your head, Olly? Why," saidGabriel with cheerful mendacity, "she's been takin' a shine to ye o'late. On'y to-night she was wonderin' whar you be."
As if to give credence to his words, and much to his inwardastonishment, the door of Mrs. Conroy's room opened, and the ladyherself, with a gracious smile on her lips and a brightly beaming eye,albeit somewhat reddened around the lids, crossed the hall, and, goingup to Olly, kissed her round cheek.
"I thought it was your voice, and although I was just going to bed," sheadded gaily, with a slightly apologetic look at her charmingdishabille, "I had to come in and be sure it was you. And where have youbeen, you naughty girl? Do you know I shall be dreadfully jealous ofthis Mrs. Markle. Come and tell me all about her. Come. You shall staywith me to-night and we won't let brother Gabe hear our littlesecrets--shall we? Come!"
And before the awe-struck Gabriel could believe his own senses she hadactually whisked the half-pleased, half-frightened child into her ownroom, and he was left standing alone. Nor was he the less amazed,although relieved of a certain undefined anxiety for the child, when, amoment later, Olly herself thrust her curly head out of the door, and,calling out, "Good-night, old Gabe," with a mischievous accent, shut andlocked the door in his face. For a moment Gabriel stood petrified on hisown hearthstone. Was he mistaken, and had Mrs. Conroy's anger actuallybeen nothing but a joke? Was Olly really sincere in her dislike of hiswife? There was but one apparent solution to these various andperplexing problems, and that was the general incomprehensibility of thesex.
"The ways o' woman is awful onsartin," said Gabriel, as he sought thesolitary little room which had been set apart for Olly, "and somehow Iain't the man ez hez the gift o' findin' them out."
And with these reflections he went apologetically, yet, to a certainextent, contentedly, as was his usual habit, to bed.
