the call of the canyon-第39章
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o ideal for foundation。 It had to fall。
Something inevitable had forced her confession to Rust。 Dissimulation had been a habit of her mind； it was more a habit of her class than sincerity。 But she had reached a point in her mental strife where she could not stand before Rust and let him believe she was noble and faithful when she knew she was neither。 Would not the next step in this painful metamorphosis of her character be a fierce and passionate repudiation of herself and all she represented？
She went home and locked herself in her room； deaf to telephone and servants。 There she gave up to her shame。 Scorneddespiseddismissed by that poor crippled flame…spirited Virgil Rust！ He had reverenced her； and the truth had earned his hate。 Would she ever forget his lookincredulous shockedbitterand blazing with unutterable contempt？ Carley Burch was only another Nella jilta mocker of the manhood of soldiers！ Would she ever cease to shudder at memory of Rust's slight movement of hand？ Go！ Get out of my sight！ Leave me to my agony as you left Glenn Kilbourne alone to fight his！ Men such as I am do not want the smile of your face； the touch of your hand！ We gave for womanhood！ Pass on to lesser men who loved the fleshpots and who would buy your charms！ So Carley interpreted that slight gesture； and writhed in her abasement。
Rust threw a white； illuminating light upon her desertion of Glenn。 She had betrayed him。 She had left him alone。 Dwarfed and stunted was her narrow soul！ To a man who had given all for her she had returned nothing。 Stone for bread！ Betrayal for love！ Cowardice for courage！
The hours of contending passions gave birth to vague； slow…forming revolt。
She became haunted by memory pictures and sounds and smells of Oak Creek Canyon。 As from afar she saw the great sculptured rent in the earth； green and red and brown； with its shining； flashing ribbons of waterfalls and streams。 The mighty pines stood up magnificent and stately。 The walls loomed high； shadowed under the shelves； gleaming in the sunlight； and they seemed dreaming； waiting； watching。 For what？ For her return to their serene fastnessesto the little gray log cabin。 The thought stormed Carley's soul。
Vivid and intense shone the images before her shut eyes。 She saw the winding forest floor； green with grass and fern； colorful with flower and rock。 A thousand aisles； glades； nooks； and caverns called her to come。 Nature was every woman's mother。 The populated city was a delusion。 Disease and death and corruption stalked in the shadows of the streets。 But her canyon promised hard work； playful hours； dreaming idleness； beauty； health； fragrance； loneliness； peace； wisdom； love； children； and long life。 In the hateful shut…in isolation of her room Carley stretched forth her arms as if to embrace the vision。 Pale close walls； gleaming placid stretches of brook； churning amber and white rapids； mossy banks and pine…matted ledges； the towers and turrets and ramparts where the eagles wheeledshe saw them all as beloved images lost to her save in anguished memory。
She heard the murmur of flowing water； soft； low； now loud； and again lulling； hollow and eager； tinkling over rocks； bellowing into the deep pools； washing with silky seep of wind…swept waves the hanging willows。 Shrill and piercing and far…aloft pealed the scream of the eagle。 And she seemed to listen to a mocking bird while he mocked her with his melody of many birds。 The bees hummed； the wind moaned； the leaves rustled； the waterfall murmured。 Then came the sharp rare note of a canyon swift； most mysterious of birds； significant of the heights。
A breath of fragrance seemed to blow with her shifting senses。 The dry； sweet； tangy canyon smells returned to herof fresh…cut timber； of wood smoke； of the cabin fire with its steaming pots； of flowers and earth； and of the wet stones； of the redolent pines and the pungent cedars。
And suddenly； clearly； amazingly； Carley beheld in her mind's sight the hard features； the bold eyes； the slight smile； the coarse face of Haze Ruff。 She had forgotten him。 But he now returned。 And with memory of him flashed a revelation as to his meaning in her life。 He had appeared merely a clout； a ruffian； an animal with man's shape and intelligence。 But he was the embodiment of the raw； crude violence of the West。 He was the eyes of the natural primitive man； believing what he saw。 He had seen in Carley Burch the paraded charm； the unashamed and serene front； the woman seeking man。 Haze Ruff had been neither vile nor base nor unnatural。 It had been her subjection to the decadence of feminine dress that had been unnatural。 But Ruff had found her a lie。 She invited what she did not want。 And his scorn had been commensurate with the falsehood of her。 So might any man have been justified in his insult to her； in his rejection of her。 Haze Ruff had found her unfit for his idea of dalliance。 Virgil Rust had found her false to the ideals of womanhood for which he had sacrificed all but life itself。 What then had Glenn Kilbourne found her？ He possessed the greatness of noble love。 He had loved her before the dark and changeful tide of war had come between them。 How had he judged her？ That last sight of him standing alone； leaning with head bowed； a solitary figure trenchant with suggestion of tragic resignation and strength； returned to flay Carley。 He had loved； trusted； and hoped。 She saw now what his hope had been…that she would have instilled into her blood the subtle； red； and revivifying essence of calling life in the open； the strength of the wives of earlier years； an emanation from canyon； desert； mountain； forest； of health； of spirit； of forward…gazing natural love； of the mysterious saving instinct he had gotten out of the West。 And she had been too little too steeped in the indulgence of luxurious life too slight…natured and pale…blooded！ And suddenly there pierced into the black storm of Carley's mind a blazing； white…streaked thoughtshe had left Glenn to the Western girl； Flo Hutter。 Humiliated； and abased in her own sight； Carley fell prey to a fury of jealousy。
She went back to the old life。 But it was in a bitter； restless； critical spirit； conscious of the fact that she could derive neither forgetfulness nor pleasure from it； nor see any release from the habit of years。
One afternoon； late in the fall； she motored out to a Long Island club where the last of the season's golf was being enjoyed by some of her most intimate friends。 Carley did not play。 Aimlessly she walked around the grounds； finding the autumn colors subdued and drab； like her mind。 The air held a promise of early winter。 She thought that she would go South before the cold came。 Always trying to escape anything rigorous； hard； painful； or disagreeable！ Later she returned to the clubhouse to find her party assembled on an inclosed porch； chatting and partaking of refreshment。 Morrison was there。 He had not taken kindly to her late habit of denying herself to him。
During a lull in the idle conversation Morrison addressed Carley pointedly。 〃Well； Carley； how's your Arizona hog…raiser？〃 he queried； with a little gleam in his usually lusterless eyes。
〃I have not heard lately；〃 she replied； coldly。
The assembled company suddenly quieted with a portent inimical to their leisurely content of the moment。 Carley felt them all looking at her； and underneath the exterior she preserved with extreme difficulty； there burned so fierce an anger that she seemed to have swelling veins of fire。
〃Queer how Kilbourne went into raising hogs；〃 observed Morrison。 〃Such a low…down sort of work； you know。〃
〃He had no choice；〃 replied Carley。 〃Glenn didn't have a father who made tainted millions out of the war。 He had to work。 And I must differ with you about its being low…down。 No honest work is that。 It is idleness that is low down。〃
〃But so foolish of Glenn when he might have married money；〃 rejoined Morrison； sarcastcally。
〃The honor of soldiers is beyond your ken； Mr。 Morrison。〃
He flushed darkly and bit his lip。
〃You women make a man sick with this rot about soldiers；〃 he said； the gleam in his eye growing ugly。 〃A uniform goes to a woman's head no matter what's inside it。 I don'
