VIII
It was close upon the middle of April when Gwynne left the train a milefrom Lumalitas, and, being unheralded, walked across the fields to hishouse. He had intended to get off at Rosewater, hire the fastest horsein town, and ride out to Old Inn; but he had been seized with doubt anddiffidence, and while he was still turning hot and cold the train movedout of the station. It was now nearly ten weeks since he had seenIsabel, and during that time he had received one letter from her. Thisletter he had read and reread until its contents were meaningless; andhe was still in doubt as to what might lurk between the lines. He wasreasonably sure that he had forced her to write, but whether mere piqueand curiosity had been his aides, he was far from being able todetermine. She had been right in assuming that he dared not trusthimself to the tempting privacy of the letter. He had no idea how hestood, and would not run the risk of making a fool of himself; not untilhe was face to face with her could he pretend to decide upon any courseof action. But he had been tormented for ten weeks as he had neverexpected to be tormented by any woman. Although he still assured himselfthat he intended to marry her, the riot in his mind and blood breddistrust of himself and evoked terrible images of Isabel at the altarwith another. He should hate to the day of his death the beautiful oldtown of Santa Barbara, where he had been without any sort of refugefrom his thoughts; and in Washington, although he had managed to occupyhis mind and time profitably, there were still hours which he must spendalone, and he had dreaded them.
And he was beset by other doubts than those of the mere lover. He wasconscious that in these weeks of absence and longing, he had idealizedIsabel, until the being he dwelt with in fancy was more goddess thanwoman. He knew many sides of her, but much had eluded him, even after hebegan to study her. That she was gifted in large measure with what theAmericans so aptly termed cussedness he had good reason to know; andwhether this very definite characteristic so far controlled her natureas to hold her nobler qualities in durance----or were there noblerqualities? She had brain and common-sense; both attributes had compelledhis respect long since. And she had character and pride--loyalty andindependence. He had had glimpses of what he would unhesitatingly haveaccepted as heart and passion had he not known himself to be dazzled byher beauty and wilful powers of fascination. That she was whollyfeminine, at least, he was convinced; she was too often absurdly so tokeep up, with any one that saw her constantly, the fiction of thesexless philosopher. The very devil in her was of the unmistakablefeminine kidney. All this gave him hope, and he knew, that when capricepermitted, she would be unrivalled as a companion. Intellectually, atleast, there was no thought of his she could not share and appreciate;and her sense of humor and her feminine perversities would alwaysdelight him. If only there were depths beneath. The longings of thespirit are always formless, vaguely worded, a little shamefaced. Gwynnehardly knew what was the great extreme he wanted in his wife, but heknew that if he did not find it he should be miserable. He was by nomeans the young man that had fallen blindly in love with Julia Kaye. Hehad had little time for introspection, for intimate knowledge ofhimself, in those days.
The spring was invented to remind men what mere mortals they are. Gwynnewould have felt restless and disinclined for law and politics thismorning had he never seen Isabel Otis. Every lark in the great valleywas singing madly. Blue birds, yellow birds, sat on the fences andcarolled at each other as if the world were always May. The very earthseemed to have sprouted into color. He had never imagined wild flowersby the billion, nor such a harmonious variety of color. The fields weregreen, the cherries, black and red and white, glistening and luscious,were ready for picking in his orchards. As he approached his house, hesaw that all the white oaks, bare in winter, were in leaf; large softyoung green leaves, that almost hid the pendent sad green moss. The airwas warm and light, the sky so blue it seemed to laugh with a promise ofeternal good things. The whole land breathed hope, and youth, andallurement to every delight, of which she alone possessed the store. Hewas soon to learn what a liar she was, but although it was many a longday before he took note of any phase of nature again, save her weather,he had an elusive presentiment that he should never cease to be gratefulfor that moment of quick unreasoning exultation in his youth andmanhood, and in the mere joy of life.
He was not surprised, as he turned the corner of the veranda, to findImura Kisaburo Hinamoto sitting with his feet on the railing, acigarette in his mouth, and a volume, issued by the United States Coastand Geodetic Survey, on his knee. But as the servant saw the master herose promptly to his feet, extinguished the cigarette with his fingers,and stood in an attitude of extreme respect. He even smiled, but notpropitiatingly; it was almost patent that the return of his chancesuperior was welcome.
Gwynne nodded. "Glad to see that you still improve your mind," heobserved. "Tell Carlos to hitch up and go for my luggage: I left it atthe station." He looked at his watch. It was half-past eleven. Hehesitated a moment, then decided to postpone his visit to Isabel again.He did not feel in the mood to sit down and eat with her. "My horse attwo o'clock," he added. And the Jap disappeared.
Gwynne went into the kitchen, and Mariana, who was peeling onions for an_olla podrida_, screamed and embraced him.
"No could help," she said, philosophically. "Very glad, senor, veryglad."
Gwynne was not in the humor to repulse anybody, and assured her that shereally made him feel that he had returned to his home. Several of hertribe were in the kitchen and looked expectant. He informed them that hehad a box of New York sweets in his trunk, and retreated.
On the veranda he sat down facing his mountain, which like the rest ofthe world was a mass of delicate color, where it was not merely green,and seemed to move gently under the pink shimmering haze. Beyond was theblue crouching mass of the old volcano. "The eternal hills" was a phrasethat never occurred to him when he watched these mountains, alwaysveiled under a colored and moving haze. They looked far more likely topull up their feet and walk off. But Gwynne, although the borderbeneath his veranda was full of sweet scents, and the roses on thepillars hung about him, and the air was a soft caressing tide, was nolonger concerned with nature. He was nervous and full of doubt, ofuneasy anticipation that he would not appear to advantage at threeo'clock that afternoon. He knew that if he were really panic-strickenand attempted to carry it off in the masterful manner, she would laughin his face. If he could work himself up to the attitude, well and good.At the same time he was vaguely conscious that this period of alternatehope and fear, of cold fits and hot, would one day be sweet in theretrospect, and regretted with some sadness; an episode in the lover'sprogress gone beyond recall.
There was a sound of wheels on the county road, then on his ownproperty. He wondered at the unusual dispatch of his Carlos, butrealized in a moment that a buggy was approaching, not a wagon. Thenthere was a light slouching step on the veranda, and he rose to greetTom Colton.
"By Jove, old chap, I'm glad to see you," he began, and thankful that hehad written his condolences; but he paused abruptly. Colton ignored theoutstretched hand.
"So you've got your passport?" he said. And his ingenuous blue eyes werefull of a hard antagonism.
"Yes," said Gwynne. "I should have told you in a day or two. How did youfind out?" he added, curiously. "I took my oath before the passportclerk in the innermost recess of the State Department."
"There's not much I don't find out. Only, I got wind of this a littletoo late. So did some others, or you might have hung round Washingtonfor the next four years. Do you call it square not to have told me ofthis before you left?"
"I saw no obligation to take you into my confidence. In the first placethe result of my pilgrimage was very doubtful, and in the second youwould have done all you could to balk me. When have I given you reasonto write me down an ass?"
"You are too damned clever," muttered Colton. "Too clever by half. Muchbetter for you if you had stayed where you were. You had no enemies whenyou left, but now, let me tell you, you've got a bunch that it will
takemore than your cleverness to handle."
"They can do their worst. I thought that all I needed was hard work, butI fancy that what I missed most was the stimulus of enemies."
"Well, you've got it all right."
Somewhat to the host's surprise he suddenly seated himself and tippedback his chair. Gwynne remained standing, leaning against a pillar, hishands in his pockets. Colton surveyed him frankly. His eyes were stillhard and he was very angry, but he saw no reason why he should beuncomfortable, and although he could disguise his feelings when hechose, he knew that here it was safe to allow himself the luxury offrankness. He was the more annoyed, as what friendship he was capable ofhe had given to Gwynne. That would not have stayed hand or foot amoment, were his path in the least obstructed, but he regretted thatthey had come to an issue so early in the game. Indeed, he had hoped tomanipulate Gwynne's destinies so subtly that they would be politicallybound for life, with himself always a length ahead. It was true thatonce or twice he had felt a misgiving that the Englishman, with all hisaristocratic disdain for devious ways, might match him and win, but theshock of this early outwitting had been none the less severe.
"Did you have a hard time getting it?" he demanded.
"Rather. Never heard so much palaver in my life."
"Well, I wish there had been more. I think I have at least the right toask what you intend to do next."
"Return to Judge Leslie's office to-morrow--for the matter of that, Ihave read a good deal since I left. In September I shall have been ayear in the State, and of course I can vote. I am not so sure that Ishall."
"Yes! That is all, I suppose?"
"For the present. You are too good a politician to fancy that Americancitizenship has invested me with a halo. Except to a hundred oddfarmers, Rosewater, a small group in San Francisco, and a party boss ortwo, I am unknown. No doubt I shall be several years achievingsufficient prominence either to run for office, or to accomplishanything whatever--outside of Rosewater. So far as I can see, thisimmediate citizenship has effected two results only: I am now in aposition to take advantage of any political change that may develop,instead of sowing for another to reap--and--"
He hesitated, and Colton shot him a keen glance. "It has made a changein you, I guess. I noticed that the minute I laid eyes on you. Ifanything was needed to make me madder, it was that."
"Yes--I am changed. That is to say, I am poised. In spite of thedetermination to absorb Americanism with every pore, there was alwaysthe lurking doubt that it wouldn't do; that some day I should make abolt for England. Now the matter is settled forever. I not only am anAmerican but always have been. The highest legal opinion in the countrywas called in, and that was what finally decided the question. Iaccepted it as literally as the others did, and in so doing I relegatedmy English life to the episodical backwaters: among my adventures inIndia and Africa. I fancy that if England came to a death struggle in mytime, and every man counted, I should fight for her. I certainly nevershould fight against her. But it is a profound relief to me that I amnot throwing her over, that we have no legitimate right to each other. Ifancy that that, too, demoralized me a bit."
"How did you feel when you took that oath?" asked Colton, more and morecurious, almost forgetting his grievance. "It's a kind of solemn oath.I've had a sort of chill when I've heard it taken once or twice."
"There could hardly be a more solemn oath. I don't know that it gave mea chill, but I certainly read it over several times before I took it.And I took it without any reservations."
"Did you feel an American the moment you took it?"
"Yes--I did. That is to say I felt a certain buoyancy. The die was cast.There could be no more hesitation and doubt. My new life had actuallybegun."
"It's begun, all right. Jiminy, but you'll have a tough time. They'reonto you now. You haven't the ghost of a chance to make a move theywon't see before your hand is off the board."
Gwynne replied with even more than his usual fluency.
"Yes," replied Colton, with a sigh. "I guess that's where we'll allbring up. But meanwhile? Are you going to throw me over?"
"It will depend upon yourself. I have no objection to confide to yousuch plans as I have been able to formulate. Judge Leslie advised me toplay about in society, in Washington, but I was in no humor for anythingof the sort. I had uncommon opportunities to study men and conditions,and I took full advantage of them. I doubt if I shall vote until thenext Presidential election. Then, if an independent party of consequencehas not been formed, and I see no prospect of working up one in thisState, I shall vote the Democratic ticket. As things stand at present,it is the less of two evils, and would at least accomplish a reductionof the tariff, and something towards a redistribution of wealth. Ihaven't the least doubt that the Democrats, if they get in--unless theyhave a really good man up their sleeve--will abuse their power quite asmuch as the Republicans have done; but that will take some time; andmeanwhile a new party is sure to grow up, for the best men in thecountry are thoroughly roused. There's no doubt on that point--and it isa point you would do well to remember. There have been chapters beforein the world's history when right has paid."
"For a while," said Colton, dubiously. "The point is now that you arelikely to join the Democrats."
"To vote with them. Theirs are the soundest principles. I stick to thatpoint."
"I don't question it. I only wish elections weren't two years off; I'dlike to get to work." He took a bag of peanuts from his pocket and beganto munch thoughtfully. "But you are turning me off. What do you meanexactly?"
"I shall have nothing to do with the machine. I shall speak and makepropaganda, that is all. My object is not so much to get the Democratsin as the Republicans out. I shall do nothing to split the Democraticparty--and play a losing game--unless a really great movement shouldrise, gather strength, and sweep the country. It is on the cards thatthere will be such a movement, and I throw myself into it the moment Iam persuaded the split will not work to the advantage of theRepublicans."
"How much enthusiasm have you pumped up?"
"Enthusiasm!" Gwynne's eyes roved over his "fair domain." Isabel, atleast, was not far from its borders! "I cannot say that I am atboiling-point, but I don't fancy that matters much. I have my work cutout and I shall do it. Perhaps I shall work more disinterestedly withoutenthusiasm. Certainly I shall be more clear-sighted. If ever there was atime in the history of a country to sink individual ambition, it isnow."
"Gwynne!" said Colton, abruptly. "What in thunder does it all amount to,anyhow? What difference does it make--will it make a thousand yearshence--that you and I are sitting here on the very edge of creation,solemnly discussing the rottenest subject of our little time--Americanpolitics? What's the use of the socialists frothing, and nations tryingto overturn one another? I had rather die on the spot than that theUnited States should be conquered for five minutes by Japan or any otherAsiatic power, although I could endure the victory of a people that Irecognized as our equals. Why are instincts planted so strongly? Theremay be a reason for a few years; but that's just it, a few mean littleyears and it is all over. What difference does anything really make, solong as we are comfortable? Everything else, every other instinct, isartificial. My wife is a religious little body and believes in rewardand punishment hereafter, that we must spend at least a certain part ofour time in this life preparing for the next. I'd like to believe thesame, not only to please her, but because I could look forward tomeeting my child again; but, somehow, I can't. The present has alwaysbeen about as much as I could tackle. And I fancy that when I'm throughwith it, I won't want any more. But although the present whirls so fastthat I don't have time for the sort of thinking intellectual people likeyou and Isabel do, still it does sometimes dash across my mind--thatquestion: 'What is it all for? And why do we sweat through life for whatamounts to exactly nothing in the end?'"
"You cannot be sure it amounts to nothing. Sometimes I have the fancythat the entire round globe has just one inhabitant, of which we mer
elyappear to be individual manifestations: that we are, in fact, a part ofthe earth herself, and she absorbs and casts us forth again, as sherushes along to her own destiny as sentient as ourselves. All theplanets are alive in the same way, and they are all racing to see whichwill make the greatest showing on what we call down here the JudgmentDay--that is to say, which shall have produced the most balanced andperfected being; which shall have whirled away the most original sin andsifted out a man, great and good without self-righteousness--to my mindthe worst of mortal failings because its correlative, injustice, is thesource of most of the unhappiness. That will be the millennium, andhaving no windmills and evils left to fight, we minute visibilities willwelcome deindividualization. Then, no doubt, there will be a grand finalbattle between the great body of good thus formed, and the evil castout, but roaming space and joining forces. If we do our best here weshall win, and be happy ever after. There is no question, that if youfollow your higher instincts you are happier in the long run than if youfall a slave to your base and mean; and that, to my mind, is the proofthat the highest instincts are meant to be followed to some greaterend."
"Hm. I have heard a good many theories, first and last, and that soundsas plausible as any."
"All this is very casually related to American politics, except that wehad better clean up when the opportunity is vouchsafed us; for nothingdegrades human nature nor retards civilization so much as politics gonealtogether wrong. As far as you are concerned, although it wasunderstood that the compact was to end with my citizenship, I have nothought of ending it unless the conditions I hope for shall crystallizemeanwhile. If it seems best to keep the Democratic party unsplit I shalldo your canvassing and speaking, for it will make me known, and give methe opportunity to inculcate the principles I purpose to advocate. Ifyou ignore them when you are in office, so much the worse for you, andbetter for me; for, as I have told you more than once, the moment I amin power I shall devote my energies to pulling you and your like downand out. But I should advise you to join the third party if it arises."
"No doubt I might, if it were strong enough," said Colton, frankly. "Idon't propose to play any losing game, and if the Democratic party goesby the board, T. R. Colton doesn't follow. And if a third party came into stay it would have to have a boss--"
"Not your sort."
"Oh, well, time enough." Colton's ill-humor was now somnolent under sometwo pounds of peanuts. He rose and shook hands with Gwynne. "Glad to seeyou looking so well--you're some heavier than when you came toCalifornia, by-the-way, and it suits you first rate. Be sure you call onmy wife the first time you come to town."
He declined Gwynne's invitation to dinner, and drove off, lookingslothful and amiable once more. But what went on behind that mask,within that long ill-built cranium, Gwynne had never pretended to guess.Nor, to-day, did he care.
* * * * *
At three o'clock he gave his horse to Abe, was told that the lady of themanor was out walking, and went into the house. He had a fancy to meether again in the room that harbored the sweetest of his Californiamemories. It was dark and cool. Only one window, looking upon thegarden, was open. Beside it was a comfortable chair which he tookpossession of and looked out into the wild old garden so different fromthe excessively cultivated plots of Rosewater and his own meagre strips.There was no veranda on this side of the house, and the greatacacia-tree, with its weight of fragrant gold, was but a few feet fromthe window. The entire garden was enclosed by a hedge of the Castilianroses of which he had heard so much, rare as they now were inCalifornia. The dull green leaves and tight little buds could hardly beseen for the mass of wide fluted roses of a deep old-fashioned pink. Andthere were large irregular borders covered with the luxuriant green andthe blue stars of the periwinkle, beds of marguerites and violets,bushes of lilac and honeysuckles, roses and jasmine. The blendedperfumes were overpowering, however delicious; Gwynne had sat up halfthe night before talking to his mother after a long hot journey; he fellasleep.
Perhaps it was his late conversation, perhaps something more subtle, buthe felt himself transported to a void. In a moment he realized that thevoid was not space as he knew it, but rigid invisible substance. Heslipped along through rocky strata, hearing strange echoes and inhalingthe disagreeable odors of healing waters. Suddenly he found himself in avast hollowed space, empty but for many pillars. His vision grew keener.In the very centre of the hall he saw two pillars of a colossal size,and standing between them a being almost as large. This unthinkablegiant had an arm about each pillar and strained as Samson had strainedat the pillars of the temple. Then a new and powerful force drew himupward once more, and he awoke.
He turned his head towards the dim interior of the room and for a dazedmoment thought that he beheld Spring herself. She wore white and haddropped a mass of wild flowers at her feet; she looked as if rising outof them. Her hat was covered with poppies and wild azalea, and she had asheaf of buttercups and "blue eyes" in her belt.
"I haven't changed my ideas one bit," she said, with a shrug, as Gwynnerose and came towards her. "But I can't help it!"
Ancestors: A Novel Page 66