the three partners-第31章

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no　longer　be　a　slave　to　the　Past；　or　the　memory　that　had　deluded

him　a　few　hours　ago。　　He　walked　to　the　window；　alas；　there　was　the

same　prospect　that　had　looked　upon　his　dreams；　had　lent　itself　to

his　old　visions。　　There　was　the　eternal　outline　of　the　hills；　there

rose　the　steadfast　pines；　there　was　no　change　in　THEM。　　It　was　this

surrounding　constancy　of　nature　that　had　affected　him。　　He　turned

away　and　entered　the　bedroom。　　Here　he　suddenly　remembered　that　the

mother　of　this　vague　enemy；　Van　Loo；for　his　feeling　towards　him

was　still　vague；　as　few　men　really　hate　the　personality　they　don't

know；had　only　momentarily　vacated　it；　and　to　his　distaste　of　his

own　intrusion　was　now　added　the　profound　irony　of　his　sleeping　in

the　same　bed　lately　occupied　by　the　mother　of　the　man　who　was

suspected　of　having　forged　his　name。　　He　smiled　faintly　and　looked

around　the　apartment。　　It　was　handsomely　furnished；　and　although　it

still　had　much　of　the　characterlessness　of　the　hotel　room；　it　was

distinctly　flavored　by　its　last　occupant；　and　still　brightened　by

that　mysterious　instinct　of　the　sex　which　is　inevitable。　　Where　a

man　would　have　simply　left　his　forgotten　slippers　or　collars　there

was　a　glass　of　still　unfaded　flowers；　the　cold　marble　top　of　the

dressing…table　was　littered　with　a　few　linen　and　silk　toilet

covers；　and　on　the　mantel…shelf　was　a　sheaf　of　photographs。　　He

walked　towards　them　mechanically；　glanced　at　them　abstractedly；　and

then　stopped　suddenly　with　a　beating　heart。　　Before　him　was　the

picture　of　his　past；　the　photograph　of　the　one　woman　who　had　filled

his　life！



He　cast　a　hurried　glance　around　the　room　as　if　he　half　expected　to

see　the　original　start　up　before　him；　and　then　eagerly　seized　it

and　hurried　with　it　to　the　light。　　Yes！　yes！　　It　was　SHE；she　as

she　had　lived　in　his　actual　memory；　she　as　she　had　lived　in　his

dream。　　He　saw　her　sweet　eyes；　but　the　frightened；　innocent　trouble

had　passed　from　them；　there　was　the　sensitive　elegance　of　her

graceful　figure　in　evening　dress；　but　the　figure　was　fuller　and

maturer。　　Could　he　be　mistaken　by　some　wonderful　resemblance　acting

upon　his　too　willing　brain？　　He　turned　the　photograph　over。　　No；

there　on　the　other　side；　written　in　her　own　childlike　hand；

endeared　and　familiar　to　his　recollection；　was　her　own　name；　and

the　date！　　It　was　surely　she！



How　did　it　come　there？　　Did　the　Van　Loos　know　her？　　It　was　taken　in

Venice；　there　was　the　address　of　the　photographers。　　The　Van　Loos

were　foreigners；　he　remembered；　they　had　traveled；　perhaps　had　met

her　there　in　1858：　that　was　the　date　in　her　handwriting；　that　was

the　date　on　the　photographer's　address1858。　　Suddenly　he　laid　the

photograph　down；　took　with　trembling　fingers　a　letter…case　from　his

pocket；　opened　it；　and　laid　his　last　letter　to　her；　indorsed　with

the　cruel　announcement　of　her　death；　before　him　on　the　table。　　He

passed　his　hand　across　his　forehead　and　opened　the　letter。　　It　was

dated　1856！　　The　photograph　must　have　been　taken　two　years　AFTER

her　alleged　death！



He　examined　it　again　eagerly；　fixedly；　tremblingly。　　A　wild　impulse

to　summon　Barker　or　Stacy　on　the　spot　was　restrained　with

difficulty　and　only　when　he　remembered　that　they　could　not　help

him。　　Then　he　began　to　oscillate　between　a　joy　and　a　new　fear；

which　now；　for　the　first　time；　began　to　dawn　upon　him。　　If　the　news

of　her　death　had　been　a　fiendish　trick　of　her　relations；　why　had

SHE　never　sought　him？　　It　was　not　ill　health；　restraint；　nor　fear；

there　was　nothing　but　happiness　and　the　strength　of　youth　and

beauty　in　that　face　and　figure。　　HE　had　not　disappeared　from　the

world；　he　was　known　of　men；　more；　his　memorable　good　fortune　must

have　reached　her　ears。　　Had　he　wasted　all　these　miserable　years　to

find　himself　abandoned；　forgotten；　perhaps　even　a　dupe？　　For　the

first　time　the　sting　of　jealousy　entered　his　soul。　　Perhaps；

unconsciously　to　himself；　his　strange　and　varying　feelings　that

afternoon　had　been　the　gathering　climax　of　his　mental　condition；　at

all　events；　in　the　sudden　revulsion　there　was　a　shaking　off　of　his

apathetic　thought；　there　was　activity；　even　if　it　was　the　activity

of　pain。　　Here　was　a　mystery　to　be　solved；　a　secret　to　be

discovered；　a　past　wrong　to　be　exposed；　an　enemy　or；　perhaps；　even

a　faithless　love　to　be　punished。　　Perhaps　he　had　even　saved　his

reason　at　the　expense　of　his　love。　　He　quickly　replaced　the

photograph　on　the　mantel…shelf；　returned　the　letter　carefully　to

his　pocket…book；no　longer　a　souvenir　of　the　past；　but　a　proof　of

treachery；and　began　to　mechanically　undress　himself。　　He　was

quite　calm　now；　and　went　to　bed　with　a　strange　sense　of　relief；　and

slept　as　he　had　not　slept　since　he　was　a　boy。



The　whole　hotel　had　sunk　to　rest　by　this　time；　and　then　began　the

usual　slow；　nightly　invasion　and　investment　of　it　by　nature。　　For

all　its　broad　verandas　and　glaring　terraces；　its　long　ranges　of

windows　and　glittering　crest　of　cupola　and　tower；　it　gradually

succumbed　to　the　more　potent　influences　around　it；　and　became　their

sport　and　playground。　　The　mountain　breezes　from　the　distant　summit

swept　down　upon　its　flimsy　structure；　shook　the　great　glass　windows

as　with　a　strong　hand；　and　sent　the　balm　of　bay　and　spruce　through

every　chink　and　cranny。　　In　the　great　hall　and　corridors　the

carpets　billowed　with　the　intruding　blast　along　the　floors；　there

was　the　murmur　of　the　pines　in　the　passages；　and　the　damp　odor　of

leaves　in　the　dining…room。　　There　was　the　cry　of　night　birds　in　the

creaking　cupola；　and　the　swift　rush　of　dark　wings　past　bedroom

windows。　　Lissome　shapes　crept　along　the　terraces　between　the

stolid　wooden　statues；　or；　bolder；　scampered　the　whole　length　of

the　great　veranda。　　In　the　lulling　of　the　wind　the　breath　of　the

woods　was　everywhere；　even　the　aroma　of　swelling　sapas　if　the

ghastly　stumps　on　the　deforested　slope　behind　the　hotel　were

bleeding　afresh　in　the　dewless　nightstung　the　eyes　and　nostrils

of　the　sleepers。



It　was；　perhaps；　from　such　cause　as　this　that　Barker　was　awakened

suddenly　by　the　voice　of　the　boy　from　the　crib　beside　him；　crying；

〃Mamma！　mamma！〃　　Taking　the　child　in　his　arms；　he　comforted　him；

saying　she　would　come　that　morning；　and　showed　him　the　faint　dawn

already　veiling　with　color　the　ghostly　pallor　of　the　Sierras。　　As

they　looked　at　it　a　great　star　shot　forth　from　its　brethren　and

fell。　　It　did　not　fall　perpendicularly；　but　seemed　for　some　seconds

to　slip　along　the　slopes　of　Black　Spur；　gleaming　through　the　trees

like　a　chariot　of　fire。　　It　pleased　the　child　to　say　that　it　was

the　light　of　mamma's　buggy　that　was　fetching　her　home；　and　it

pleased　the　father　to　encourage　the　boy's　fancy。　　And　talking　thus

in　confidential　whispers　they　fell　asleep　once　more；　the　father

himself　a　child　in　so　many　thingsholding　the　smaller　and　frailer

hand　in　his。



They　did　not　know　that　on　the　other　side　of　the　Divide　the　wife　and

mother；　scared；　doubting；　and　desperate；　by　the　side　of　her　scared；

doubting；　and　desperate　accomplice；　was　flying　down　the　slope　on

her　night…long　road　to　ruin。　　Still　less　did　they　know　that；　with

the　early　singing　birds；　a　careless　horseman；　emerging　from　the

trail　as　the　dust…stained　buggy　dashed　past　him；　glanced　at　it　with

a　puzzled　air；　uttered　a　quiet　whistle　of　surprise；　and　then；

wheeling　his　horse；　gayly　cantered　after　it。





CHAPTER　V。





In　the　exercise　of　his　arduous　profession；　Jack　Hamlin　had　sat　up

all　night　in　the　magnolia　saloon　of　the　Divide；　and　as　it　was

rather　early　to　go　to　bed；　he　had；　after　his　usual　habit；　shaken

off　the　sedentary　attitude　and　prepared　himself　for　sleep　by　a

fierce　preliminary　gallop　in　the　woods。　　Besides；　he　had　been　a

large　winner；　and　on　those　occasions　he　generally　isolated　himself

from　his　companions　to　avoid　foolish　altercations　with　inexperienced

players。　　Even　in　fighting　Jack　was　fastidious；　and　did　not　like　to

have　his　stomach　for　a　real　difficulty　dis