on the frontier-第22章
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Mexican girl mysteriously appeared in the kitchen; as a temporary
assistant to the decrepit Concha。 These were both clearly
attributable to Don Jose; whose visit was not so remote but that
these delicate attentions might have been already projected before
Mrs。 Tucker had declined them; and she could not; without marked
discourtesy; return them now。 She did not wish to seem
discourteous; she would like to have been more civil to this old
gentleman; who still retained the evidences of a picturesque and
decorous past; and a repose so different from the life that was
perplexing her。 Reflecting that if he bought the estate these
things would be ready to his hand; and with a woman's instinct
recognizing their value in setting off the house to other
purchasers' eyes; she took a pleasure in tastefully arranging them;
and even found herself speculating how she might have enjoyed them
herself had she been able to keep possession of the property。
After all; it would not have been so lonely if refined and gentle
neighbors; like this old man; would have sympathized with her; she
had an instinctive feeling that; in their own hopeless decay and
hereditary unfitness for this new civilization; they would have
been more tolerant of her husband's failure than his own kind。 She
could not believe that Don Jose really hated her husband for buying
of the successful claimant; as there was no other legal title。
Allowing herself to become interested in the guileless gossip of
the new handmaiden; proud of her broken English; she was drawn into
a sympathy with the grave simplicity of Don Jose's character; a
relic of that true nobility which placed this descendant of the
Castilians and the daughter of a free people on the same level。
In this way the second day of her occupancy of Los Cuervos closed;
with dumb clouds along the gray horizon; and the paroxysms of
hysterical wind growing fainter and fainter outside the walls; with
the moon rising after nightfall; and losing itself in silent and
mysterious confidences with drifting scud。 She went to bed early;
but woke past midnight; hearing; as she thought; her own name
called。 The impression was so strong upon her that she rose; and;
hastily enwrapping herself; went to the dark embrasures of the
oven…shaped windows; and looked out。 The dwarfed oak beside the
window was still dropping from a past shower; but the level waste
of marsh and meadow beyond seemed to advance and recede with the
coming and going of the moon。 Again she heard her name called; and
this time in accents so strangely familiar that with a slight cry
she ran into the corridor; crossed the patio; and reached the open
gate。 The darkness that had; even in this brief interval; again
fallen upon the prospect she tried in vain to pierce with eye and
voice。 A blank silence followed。 Then the veil was suddenly
withdrawn; the vast plain; stretching from the mountain to the sea;
shone as clearly as in the light of day; the moving current of the
channel glittered like black pearls; the stagnant pools like molten
lead; but not a sign of life nor motion broke the monotony of the
broad expanse。 She must have surely dreamed it。 A chill wind
drove her back to the house again; she entered her bedroom; and in
half an hour she was in a peaceful sleep。
CHAPTER V
The two men kept their secret。 Mr。 Poindexter convinced Mrs。
Tucker that the sale of Los Cuervos could not be effected until the
notoriety of her husband's flight had been fairly forgotten; and
she was forced to accept her fate。 The sale of her diamonds; which
seemed to her to have realized a singularly extravagant sum;
enabled her to quietly reinstate the Pattersons in the tienda and
to discharge in full her husband's liabilities to the rancheros and
his humbler retainers。
Meanwhile the winter rains had ceased。 It seemed to her as if the
clouds had suddenly one night struck their white tents and stolen
away; leaving the unvanquished sun to mount the vacant sky the next
morning alone; and possess it thenceforward unchallenged。 One
afternoon she thought the long sad waste before her window had
caught some tint of gayer color from the sunset; a week later she
found it a blazing landscape of poppies; broken here and there by
blue lagoons of lupine; by pools of daisies; by banks of dog…roses;
by broad outlying shores of dandelions that scattered their lavish
gold to the foot of the hills; where the green billows of wild oats
carried it on and upwards to the darker crest of pines。 For two
months she was dazzled and bewildered with color。 She had never
before been face to face with this spendthrift Californian Flora;
in her virgin wastefulness; her more than goddess…like prodigality。
The teeming earth seemed to quicken and throb beneath her feet; the
few circuits of a plough around the outlying corral were enough to
call out a jungle growth of giant grain that almost hid the low
walls of the hacienda。 In this glorious fecundity of the earth; in
this joyous renewal of life and color; in this opulent youth and
freshness of soil and sky; it alone remained; the dead and sterile
Past; left in the midst of buoyant rejuvenescence and resurrection;
like an empty churchyard skull upturned on the springing turf。 Its
bronzed adobe walls mocked the green vine that embraced them; the
crumbling dust of its courtyard remained ungerminating and
unfruitful; to the thousand stirring voices without; its dry lips
alone remained mute; unresponsive and unchanged。
During this time Don Jose had become a frequent visitor at Los
Cuervos; bringing with him at first his niece and sister in a
stately precision of politeness that was not lost on the proud Blue
Grass stranger。 She returned their visit at Los Gatos; and there
made the formal acquaintance of Don Jose's grandmother; a lady who
still regarded the decrepit Concha as a giddy muchacha; and who
herself glittered as with the phosphorescence of refined decay。
Through this circumstance she learned that Don Jose was not yet
fifty; and that his gravity of manner and sedateness was more the
result of fastidious isolation and temperament than years。 She
could not tell why the information gave her a feeling of annoyance;
but it caused her to regret the absence of Poindexter; and to
wonder; also somewhat nervously; why he had lately avoided her
presence。 The thought that he might be doing so from a recollection
of the innuendoes of Mrs。 Patterson caused a little tremor of
indignation in her pulses。 〃As if〃 but she did not finish the
sentence even to herself; and her eyes filled with bitter tears。
Yet she had thought of the husband who had so cruelly wronged her
less feverishly; less impatiently than before。 For she thought she
loved him now the more deeply; because; although she was not
reconciled to his absence; it seemed to keep alive the memory of
what he had been before his one wild act separated them。 She had
never seen the reflection of another woman's eyes in his; the past
contained no haunting recollection of waning or alienated
affection; she could meet him again; and; clasping her arms around
him; awaken as if from a troubled dream without reproach or
explanation。 Her strong belief in this made her patient; she no
longer sought to know the particulars of his flight; and never
dreamed that her passive submission to his absence was partly due
to a fear that something in his actual presence at that moment
would have destroyed that belief forever。
For this reason the delicate reticence of the people at Los Gatos;
and their seclusion from the world which knew of her husband's
fault; had made her encourage the visits of Don Jose; until from
the instinct already alluded to she one day summoned Poindexter to
Los Cuervos; on the day that Don Jose usually called。 But to her
surprise the two men met more or less awkwardly and coldly; and her
tact as hostess was tried to