a ward of the golden gate-第5章

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regarding　it。

He　vaguely　remembered　that　it　was　eight　years　ago；　and　eight　years
had　worked　considerable　change　in　the　original　trustees；　greatest
of　all　in　his　superior　officer；　the　Mayor；　who　had　died　the　year
following；　leaving　his　trusteeship　to　his　successor　in　office；　whom
Paul　Hathaway　had　never　seen。　　The　Bank　of　El　Dorado；　despite　Mrs。
Howard's　sanguine　belief；　had　long　been　in　bankruptcy；　and；
although　Colonel　Pendleton　still　survived　it；　it　was　certain　that
no　other　president　would　succeed　to　his　office　as　trustee；　and　that
the　function　would　lapse　with　him。　　Paul　himself；　a　soldier　of
fortune；　although　habitually　lucky；　had　only　lately　succeeded　to　a
professionif　his　political　functions　could　be　so　described。　　Even
with　his　luck；　energy；　and　ambition；　while　everything　was　possible；
nothing　was　secure。　　It　seemed；　therefore；　as　if　the　soulless
official　must　eventually　assume　the　duties　of　the　two　sympathizing
friends　who　had　originated　them；　and　had　stood　in　loco　parentis　to
the　constructive　orphan。　　The　mother；　Mrs。　Howard；　had　disappeared
a　year　after　the　Trust　had　been　madeit　was　charitably　presumed　in
order　to　prevent　any　complications　that　might　arise　from　her
presence　in　the　country。　　With　these　facts　before　him；　Paul
Hathaway　was　more　concerned　in　wondering　what　Pendleton　could　want
with　him　than；　I　fear；　any　direct　sympathy　with　the　situation。　　On
the　contrary；　it　appeared　to　him　more　favorable　for　keeping　the
secret　of　Mrs。　Howard's　relationship；　which　would　now　die　with
Colonel　Pendleton　and　himself；　and　there　was　no　danger　of　any
emotional　betrayal　of　it　in　the　cold　official　administration　of　a
man　who　had　received　the　Trust　through　the　formal　hands　of
successive　predecessors。　　He　had　forgotten　the　time　limited　for　the
guardianship；　but　the　girl　must　soon　be　of　age　and　off　their　hands。
If　there　had　ever　been　any　romantic　or　chivalrous　impression　left
upon　his　memory　by　the　scene　in　the　mayor's　office；　I　fear　he　had
put　it　away　with　various　other　foolish　illusions　of　his　youth；　to
which　he　now　believed　he　was　superior。

Nevertheless；　he　would　see　the　colonel；　and　at　once；　and　settle　the
question。　　He　looked　at　the　address；　〃St。　Charles　Hotel。〃　　He
remembered　an　old　hostelry　of　that　name；　near　the　Plaza。　　Could　it
be　possible　that　it　had　survived　the　alterations　and　improvements
of　the　city？　　It　was　an　easy　walk　through　remembered　streets；　yet
with　changed　shops　and　houses　and　faces。　　When　he　reached　the
Plaza；　scarce　recognizable　in　its　later　frontages　of　brick　and
stone；　he　found　the　old　wooden　building　still　intact；　with　its
villa…like　galleries　and　verandas　incongruously　and　ostentatiously
overlooked　by　two　new　and　aspiring　erections　on　either　side。　　For
an　instant　he　tried　to　recall　the　glamour　of　old　days。　　He
remembered　when　his　boyish　eyes　regarded　it　as　the　crowning　work　of
opulence　and　distinction；　he　remembered　a　ball　given　there　on　some
public　occasion；　which　was　to　him　the　acme　of　social　brilliancy　and
display。　　How　tawdry　and　trivial　it　looked　beside　those　later　and
more　solid　structures！　　How　inconsistent　were　those　long　latticed
verandas　and　balconies；　pathetic　record　of　that　first　illusion　of
the　pioneers　that　their　climate　was　a　tropical　one！　　A　restaurant
and　billiard…saloon　had　aggrandized　all　of　the　lower　story；　but
there　was　still　the　fanlight；　over　which　the　remembered　title　of
〃St。　Charles；〃　in　gilded　letters；　was　now　reinforced　by　the　too
demonstrative　legend；　〃Apartments　and　Board；　by　the　Day　or　Week。〃
Was　it　possible　that　this　narrow；　creaking　staircase　had　once
seemed　to　him　the　broad　steps　of　Fame　and　Fortune？　　On　the　first
landing；　a　preoccupied　Irish　servant…girl；　with　a　mop；　directed　him
to　a　door　at　the　end　of　the　passage；　at　which　he　knocked。　　The　door
was　opened　by　a　grizzled　negro　servant；　who　was　still　holding　a
piece　of　oily　chamois…leather　in　his　hand；　and　the　contents　of　a
dueling…case；　scattered　upon　a　table　in　the　centre　of　the　room；
showed　what　had　been　his　occupation。　　Admitting　Hathaway　with　great
courtesy；　he　said：

〃Marse　Harry　bin　havin'　his　ole　trubble；　sah；　and　bin　engaged　just
dis　momen'　on　his　toylet；　ef　yo'll　accommodate　yo'self　on　de　sofa；
I　inform　him　yo'　is　heah。〃

As　the　negro　passed　into　the　next　room；　Paul　cast　a　hasty　glance
around　the　apartment。　　The　furniture；　originally　rich　and　elegant；
was　now　worn　threadbare　and　lustreless。　　A　book…case；　containing；
among　other　volumes；　a　few　law　booksthere　being　a　vague
tradition；　as　Paul　remembered；　that　Colonel　Pendleton　had　once　been
connected　with　the　lawa　few　French　chairs　of　tarnished　gilt；　a
rifle　in　the　corner；　a　presentation　sword　in　a　mahogany　case；　a　few
classical　prints　on　the　walls；　and　one　or　two　iron　deed…boxes
marked　〃El　Dorado　Bank；〃　were　the　principal　objects。　　A　mild　flavor
of　dry　decay　and　methylated　spirits　pervaded　the　apartment。　　Yet　it
was　scrupulously　clean　and　well　kept；　and　a　few　clothes　neatly
brushed　and　folded　on　a　chair　bore　witness　to　the　servant's　care。
As　Paul；　however；　glanced　behind　the　sofa；　he　was　concerned　to　see
a　coat；　which　had　evidently　been　thrust　hurriedly　in　a　corner；　with
the　sleeve　lining　inside　out；　and　a　needle　and　thread　still
sticking　in　the　seam。　　It　struck　him　instantly　that　this　had　been
the　negro's　occupation；　and　that　the　pistol…cleaning　was　a　polite
fiction。

〃Yo'　'll　have　to　skuse　Marse　Harry　seein'　yo　in　bed；　but　his　laig's
pow'ful　bad　to…day；　and　he　can't　stand；〃　said　the　servant
reentering　the　room。　　〃Skuse　me；　sah；〃　he　added　in　a　dignified
confidential　whisper；　half　closing　the　door　with　his　hand；　〃but　if
yo'　wouldn't　mind　avoidin'　'xcitin'　or　controversical　topics　in　yo'
conversation；　it　would　be　de　better　fo'　him。〃

Paul　smilingly　assented；　and　the　black　retainer；　with　even　more
than　the　usual　solemn　ceremonious　exaggeration　of　his　race；　ushered
him　into　the　bedroom。　　It　was　furnished　in　the　same　faded　glory　as
the　sitting…room；　with　the　exception　of　a　low；　iron　camp…bedstead；
in　which　the　tall；　soldierly　figure　of　Colonel　Pendleton；　clad　in
threadbare　silk　dressing…gown；　was　stretched。　　He　had　changed　in
eight　years：　his　hair　had　become　gray；　and　was　thinned　over　the
sunken　temples；　but　his　iron…gray　moustache　was　still　particularly
long　and　well　pointed。　　His　face　bore　marks　of　illness　and　care；
there　were　deep　lines　down　the　angle　of　the　nostril　that　spoke　of
alternate　savage　outbreak　and　repression；　and　gave　his　smile　a
sardonic　rigidity。　　His　dark　eyes；　that　shone　with　the　exaltation
of　fever；　fixed　Paul's　on　entering；　and　with　the　tyranny　of　an
invalid　never　left　them。

〃Well；　Hathaway？〃

With　the　sound　of　that　voice　Paul　felt　the　years　slip　away；　and　he
was　again　a　boy；　looking　up　admiringly　to　the　strong　man；　who　now
lay　helpless　before　him。　　He　had　entered　the　room　with　a　faint
sense　of　sympathizing　superiority　and　a　consciousness　of　having　had
experience　in　controlling　men。　　But　all　this　fled　before　Colonel
Pendleton's　authoritative　voice；　even　its　broken　tones　carried　the
old　dominant　spirit　of　the　man；　and　Paul　found　himself　admiring　a
quality　in　his　old　acquaintance　that　he　missed　in　his　newer
friends。

〃I　haven't　seen　you　for　eight　years；　Hathaway。　　Come　here　and　let
me　look　at　you。〃

Paul　approached　the　bedside　with　boyish　obedience。　　Pendleton　took
his　hand　and　gazed　at　him　critically。

〃I　should　have　recognized　you；　sir；　for　all　your　moustache　and　your
inches。　　The　last　time　I　saw　you　was　in　Jack　Hammersley's　office。
Well；　Jack's　dead；　and　here　I　am；　little　better；　I　reckon。　　You
remember　Hammersley's　house？〃

〃Yes；〃　said　Paul；　albeit　wondering　at　the　question。

〃Something　like　this；　Swiss　villa　style。　　I　remember　when　Jack　put
it　up。　　Well；　the　last　time　I　was　out；　I　passed　there。　　And　what　do
you　think　they've　done　to　it？〃

Paul　could　not　imagine。

〃Well；　sir；〃　said　the　colonel　gravely；　〃they've　changed　it　into　a
church　missionary　shop　and　young　men's　Christian　reading…room！　　But
that's　'progress'　and　'improvement'！〃　　He　paused；　and；　slowly
withdrawing　his　hand　from　Paul's；　added　with　grim　apology；　〃You're
young；　and　belong　to　the　new　school；　perhaps。　　Well；　sir；　I've　read
your　speech；　I