on the frontier-第14章

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pleasure…dome　decreed〃　among　the　surf　and　rocks　of　the　Pacific

shore。　　It　was　deserted　now；　and　left　to　the　unobstructed　sweep　of

the　wind　and　rain。　　Mrs。　Tucker　would　not　have　chosen　this　road。

With　the　instinctive　jealousy　of　a　bucolic　inland　race　born　by

great　rivers；　she　did　not　like　the　sea；　and　again　the　dim　and

dreary　waste　tended　to　recall　the　vision　connected　with　her

husband's　flight；　upon　which　she　had　resolutely　shut　her　eyes。　　But

when　she　had　reached　it　the　road　suddenly　turned；　following　the

trend　of　the　beach；　and　she　was　exposed　to　the　full　power　of　its

dread　fascinations。　　The　combined　roar　of　sea　and　shore　was　in　her

ears；　as　the　direct　force　of　the　gale　had　compelled　her　to　furl　the

protecting　hood　of　the　buggy　to　keep　the　light　vehicle　from

oversetting　or　drifting　to　leeward；　she　could　no　longer　shut　out

the　heaving　chaos　on　the　right　from　which　the　pallid　ghosts　of　dead

and　dying　breakers　dimly　rose　and　sank　as　if　in　awful　salutation。

At　times　through　the　darkness　a　white　sheet　appeared　spread　before

the　path　and　beneath　the　wheels　of　the　buggy；　which；　when　withdrawn

with　a　reluctant　hiss；　seemed　striving　to　drag　the　exhausted　beach

seaward　with　it。　　But　the　blind　terror　of　her　horse；　who　swerved　at

every　sweep　of　the　surge；　shamed　her　own　half…superstitious　fears；

and　with　the　effort　to　control　his　alarm　she　regained　her　own　self…

possession；　albeit　with　eyelashes　wet　not　altogether　with　the　salt

spray　from　the　sea。　　This　was　followed　by　a　reaction；　perhaps

stimulated　by　her　victory　over　the　beaten　animal；　when　for　a　time；

she　knew　not　how　long；　she　felt　only　a　mad　sense　of　freedom　and

power；　oblivious　of　even　her　sorrows；　her　lost　home　and　husband；

and　with　intense　feminine　consciousness　she　longed　to　be　a　man。

She　was　scarcely　aware　that　the　track　turned　again　inland　until　the

beat　of　the　horse's　hoofs　on　the　firm　ground　and　an　acceleration　of

speed　showed　her　she　had　left　the　beach　and　the　mysterious　sea

behind　her；　and　she　remembered　that　she　was　near　the　end　of　the

first　stage　of　her　journey。　　Half　an　hour　later　the　twinkling

lights　of　the　roadside　inn　where　she　was　to　change　horses　rose　out

of　the　darkness。



Happily　for　her；　the　ostler　considered　the　horse；　who　had　a　local

reputation；　of　more　importance　than　the　unknown　muffled　figure　in

the　shadow　of　the　unfurled　hood；　and　confined　his　attention　to　the

animal。　　After　a　careful　examination　of　his　feet　and　a　few　comments

addressed　solely　to　the　superior　creation；　he　led　him　away。　　Mrs。

Tucker　would　have　liked　to　part　more　affectionately　from　her　four…

footed　compatriot；　and　felt　a　sudden　sense　of　loneliness　at　the

loss　of　her　new　friend；　but　a　recollection　of　certain　cautions　of

Captain　Poindexter's　kept　her　mute。　　Nevertheless；　the　ostler's

ostentatious　adjuration　of　〃Now　then；　aren't　you　going　to　bring　out

that　mustang　for　the　Senora？〃　puzzled　her。　　It　was　not　until　the

fresh　horse　was　put　to；　and　she　had　flung　a　piece　of　gold　into　the

attendant's　hand；　that　the　〃Gracias〃　of　his　unmistakable　Saxon

speech　revealed　to　her　the　reason　of　the　lawyer's　caution。

Poindexter　had　evidently　represented　her　to　these　people　as　a

native　Californian　who　did　not　speak　English。　　In　her　inconsistency

her　blood　took　fire　at　this　first　suggestion　of　deceit；　and　burned

in　her　face。　　Why　should　he　try　to　pass　her　off　as　anybody　else？

Why　should　she　not　use　her　own；　her　husband's　name？　　She　stopped

and　bit　her　lip。



It　was　but　the　beginning　of　an　uneasy　train　of　thought。　　She

suddenly　found　herself　thinking　of　her　visitor；　Calhoun　Weaver；　and

not　pleasantly。　　He　would　hear　of　their　ruin　tomorrow；　perhaps　of

her　own　flight。　　He　would　remember　his　visit；　and　what　would　he

think　of　her　deceitful　frivolity？　　Would　he　believe　that　she　was

then　ignorant　of　the　failure？　　It　was　her　first　sense　of　any

accountability　to　others　than　herself；　but　even　then　it　was　rather

owing　to　an　uneasy　consciousness　of　what　her　husband　must　feel　if

he　were　subjected　to　the　criticisms　of　men　like　Calhoun。　　She

wondered　if　others　knew　that　he　had　kept　her　in　ignorance　of　his

flight。　　Did　Poindexter　know　it；　or　had　he　only　entrapped　her　into

the　admission？　　Why　had　she　not　been　clever　enough　to　make　him

think　that　she　knew　it　already？　　For　the　moment　she　hated

Poindexter　for　sharing　that　secret。　　Yet　this　was　again　followed　by

a　new　impatience　of　her　husband's　want　of　insight　into　her　ability

to　help　him。　　Of　course　the　poor　fellow　could　not　bear　to　worry

her；　could　not　bear　to　face　such　men　as　Calhoun；　or　even　Poindexter

（she　added　exultingly　to　herself）；　but　he　might　have　sent　her　a

line　as　he　fled；　only　to　prepare　her　to　meet　and　combat　the　shame

alone。　　It　did　not　occur　to　her　unsophisticated　singleness　of

nature　that　she　was　accepting　as　an　error　of　feeling　what　the　world

would　call　cowardly　selfishness。



At　midnight　the　storm　lulled　and　a　few　stars　trembled　through　the

rent　clouds。　　Her　eyes　had　become　accustomed　to　the　darkness；　and

her　country　instincts；　a　little　overlaid　by　the　urban　experiences

of　the　last　few　years；　came　again　to　the　surface。　　She　felt　the

fresh；　cool　radiation　from　outlying；　upturned　fields；　the　faint；

sad　odors　from　dim　stretches　of　pricking　grain　and　quickening　leaf；

and　wondered　if　at　Los　Cuervos　it　might　be　possible　to　reproduce

the　peculiar　verdure　of　her　native　district。　　She　beguiled　her

fancy　by　an　ambitious　plan　of　retrieving　their　fortunes　by　farming；

her　comfortable　tastes　had　lately　rebelled　against　the　homeless

mechanical　cultivation　of　these　desolate　but　teeming　Californian

acres；　and　for　a　moment　indulged　in　a　vision　of　a　vine…clad　cottage

home　that　in　any　other　woman　would　have　been　sentimental。　　Her

cramped　limbs　aching；　she　took　advantage　of　the　security　of　the

darkness　and　the　familiar　contiguity　of　the　fields　to　get　down　from

the　vehicle；　gather　her　skirts　together；　and　run　at　the　head　of　the

mustang；　until　her　chill　blood　was　thawed；　night　drawing　a　modest

veil　over　this　charming　revelation　of　the　nymph　and　woman。　　But　the

sudden　shadow　of　a　coyote　checked　the　scouring　feet　of　this　swift

Camilla；　and　sent　her　back　precipitately　to　the　buggy。　　Nevertheless；

she　was　refreshed　and　able　to　pursue　her　journey；　until　the　cold

gray　of　early　morning　found　her　at　the　end　of　her　second　stage。



Her　route　was　changed　again　from　the　main　highway；　rendered

dangerous　by　the　approach　of　day　and　the　contiguity　of　the

neighboring　rancheros。　　The　road　was　rough　and　hilly；　her　new　horse

and　vehicle　in　keeping　with　the　rudeness　of　the　routeby　far　the

most　difficult　of　her　whole　journey。　　The　rare　wagon　tracks　that

indicated　her　road　were　often　scarcely　discernible；　at　times　they

led　her　through　openings　in　the　half…cleared　woods；　skirted

suspicious　morasses；　painfully　climbed　the　smooth；　dome…like　hills；

or　wound　along　perilous　slopes　at　a　dangerous　angle。　　Twice　she　had

to　alight　and　cling　to　the　sliding　wheels　on　one　of　those

treacherous　inclines；　or　drag　them　from　impending　ruts　or　immovable

mire。　　In　the　growing　light　she　could　distinguish　the　distant；　low…

lying　marshes　eaten　by　encroaching　sloughs　and　insidious　channels；

and　beyond　them　the　faint　gray　waste　of　the　Lower　Bay。　　A　darker

peninsula　in　the　marsh　she　knew　to　be　the　extreme　boundary　of　her

future　home：　the　Rancho　de　los　Cuervos。　　In　another　hour　she　began

to　descend　to　the　plain；　and　once　more　to　approach　the　main　road；

which　now　ran　nearly　parallel　with　her　track。　　She　scanned　it

cautiously　for　any　early　traveler；　it　stretched　north　and　south　in

apparent　unending　solitude。　　She　struck　into　it　boldly；　and　urged

her　horse　to　the　top　of　his　speed；　until　she　reached　the　cross　road

that　led　to　the　rancho。　　But　here　she　paused　and　allowed　the　reins

to　drop　idly　on　the　mustang's　back。　　A　singular　and　unaccountable

irresolution　seized　her。　　The　difficulties　of　her　journey　were

over；　the　rancho　lay　scarcely　two　miles　away；　she　had　achieved　the