by Bret Harte
CHAPTER VII.
WHAT PASSED UNDER THE PINE AND WHAT REMAINED THERE.
Ramirez was not as happy in his revenge as he had anticipated. He had,in an instant of impulsive rage, fired his mine prematurely, and, as hefeared, impotently. Gabriel had not visibly sickened, faded, nor fallenblighted under the exposure of his wife's deceit. It was even doubtful,as far as Ramirez could judge from his quiet reception of therevelation, whether he would even call that wife to account for it.Again, Ramirez was unpleasantly conscious that this exposure had lostsome of its dignity and importance by being wrested from his as a_confession_ made under pressure or duress. Worse than all, he had lostthe opportunity of previously threatening Mrs. Conroy with thedisclosure, and the delicious spectacle of her discomfiture. In point offact his revenge had been limited to the cautious cowardice of theanonymous letter-writer, who, stabbing in the dark, enjoys neither thecontemplation of the agonies of his victim, nor the assertion of his ownindividual power.
To this torturing reflection a terrible suspicion of the Spanishtranslator, Perkins, was superadded. For Gabriel, Ramirez had only thatcontempt which every lawless lover has for the lawful husband of hismistress, while for Perkins he had that agonising doubt which everylawless lover has for every other man but the husband. In making thisexposure had he not precipitated a catastrophe as fatal to himself as tothe husband? Might they not both drive this woman into the arms ofanother man? Ramirez paced the little bedroom of the Grand Conroy Hotel,a prey to that bastard remorse of all natures like his own,--theoverwhelming consciousness of opportunities for villany misspent.
Come what might he would see her again, and at once. He would let herknow that he suspected her relations with this translator. He would tellher that he had written the letter--that he had forged thegrant--that----
A tap at the door recalled him to himself. It opened presently to Sal,coy, bashful, and conscious. The evident agitation of this youngforeigner had to Sal's matter-of-fact comprehension only one origin--ahopeless, consuming passion for herself.
"Dinner hez bin done gone an hour ago," said that arch virgin, "but Iput suthin' by for ye. Ye was inquirin' last night about them Conroys. Ithought I'd tell ye thet Gabril hez bin yer askin' arter LawyerMaxwell--which he's off to Sacramento--altho' one o' Sue Markle's mostintymit friends and steddeyist boarders!"
But Mr. Ramirez had no ear for Gabriel now.
"Tell to me, Mees Clark," he said, suddenly turning all his teeth onher, with gasping civility, "where is this Se[~n]or Perkins, eh?"
"Thet shiny chap--ez looks like a old turned alpacker gownd!" said Sal;"thet man ez I can't abear," she continued, with a delicately maidenlysuggestion that Ramirez need fear no rivalry from that quarter. "I don'tmind--and don't keer to know. He hezn't bin yer since mornin'. I reckonhe's up somewhar on Conroy's Hill. All I know ez thet he sent a messageyer to git ready his volise to put aboard the Wingdam stage to-night.Are ye goin' with him?"
"No," said Ramirez, curtly.
"Axin' yer parding for the question, but seein' ez he'd got booked fortwo places, I tho't ez maybe ye'd got tired o' plain mounting folks andmounting ways, and waz goin' with him," and Sal threw an arch yetreproachful glance at Ramirez.
"Booked for two seats," gasped Victor; "ah! for a lady perhaps--eh, MeesClark? for a lady?"
Sal bridled instantly at what might have seemed a suggestion ofimpropriety on her part. "A lady--like his imperance--indeed! I'd liketo know who would demean theirselves by goin' with the like o' he! Butyou're not startin' out agin without your dinner, and it waitin' ye inthe oven? No? La! Mr. Ramirez, ye must be in luv! I've heerd tell ez itdo take away the appetite; not knowin' o' my own experense, though it'slittle hez passed my lips these two days, and only when tempted."
But before Sal could complete her diagnosis, Mr. Ramirez gasped a fewwords of hasty excuse, seized his hat and hurried from the room.
Leaving Sal a second time to mourn over the effect of her coquettishplayfulness upon the sensitive Italian nature, Victor Ramirez, toilingthrough the heat and fiery dust shaken from the wheels of incomingteams, once more brushed his way up the long ascent of Conroy's Hill,and did not stop until he reached its summit. Here he paused to collecthis scattered thoughts, to decide upon some plan of action, to controlthe pulse of his beating temples, quickened by excitement and thefatigue of the ascent, and to wipe the perspiration from his streamingface. He must see her at once; but how and where? To go boldly to herhouse would be to meet her in the presence of Gabriel, and that was nolonger an object; besides, if she were with this stranger it would notprobably be there. By haunting this nearest umbrage to the house hewould probably intercept them on their way to the Gulch, or overhear anyother conference. By lingering here he would avoid any interference fromGabriel's cabin on the right, and yet be able to detect the approach ofany one from the road. The spot that he had chosen was, singularlyenough, in earlier days, Gabriel's favourite haunt for the indulgence ofhis noontide contemplation and pipe. A great pine, the largest of itsfellows, towered in a little opening to the right, as if it had drawnapart for seclusion, and obeying some mysterious attraction, Victor wenttoward it and seated himself on an abutting root at its base. Here asingular circumstance occurred, which at first filled him withsuperstitious fear. The handkerchief with which he had wiped hisface--nay, his very shirt-front itself--suddenly appeared as if coveredwith blood. A moment later he saw that the ensanguined hue was only dueto the dust through which he had plunged, blending with the perspirationthat on the least exertion still started from every pore of his burningskin.
The sun was slowly sinking. The long shadow of Reservoir Ridge fell uponConroy's Hill, and seemed to cut down the tall pine that a moment beforehad risen redly in the sunlight. The sounds of human labour slowly diedout of the Gulch below, the far-off whistle of teamsters in the Wingdamroad began to fail. One by one the red openings on the wooded hillsideopposite went out, as if Nature were putting up the shutters for theday. With the gathering twilight Ramirez became more intensely alertand watchful. Treading stealthily around the lone pine tree, withshining eyes and gleaming teeth, he might have been mistaken for somehesitating animal waiting for that boldness which should come with thecoming night. Suddenly he stopped, and leaning forward peered into theincreasing shadow. Coming up the trail from the town was a woman. Evenat that distance and by that uncertain light, Ramirez recognised theflapping hat and ungainly stride. It was Sal--perdition! Might the devilfly away with her! But she turned to the right with the trail that woundtoward Gabriel's hut and the cottage beyond, and Victor breathed, orrather panted, more freely. And then a voice at his very side thrilledhim to his smallest fibre, and he turned quickly. It was Mrs. Conroy,white, erect, and truculent.
"What are you doing here?" she said, with a sharp, quick utterance.
"Hush!" said Ramirez, trembling with the passion called up by the figurebefore him. "Hush! There is one who has just come up the trail."
"What do I care who hears me now? You have made caution unnecessary,"she responded, sharply. "All the world knows us now! and so I ask youagain, what are _you_ doing here?"
He would have approached her nearer, but she drew back, twitching herlong white skirt behind her with a single quick feminine motion of herhand, as if to save it from contamination.
Victor laughed uneasily. "You have come to keep your appointment; it isnot my fault if I am late."
"I have come here because for the last half-hour I have watched you frommy verandah, coursing in and out among the trees like a hound as youare! I have come to whip you off my land as I would a hound. But I havefirst a word or two to say to you as the man you have assumed to be."
Standing there with the sunset glow over her erect, graceful figure, inthe pink flush of her cheek, in the cold fires of her eyes, in all thethousand nameless magnetisms of her presence, there was so much of herold power over this slave of passion, that the scorn of her wordstouched him only to inflame him, and he would have grovelled at her feetcoul
d he have touched the thin three fingers that she warningly waved athim.
"You wrong me, Julie, by the God of Heaven! I was wild, mad, thismorning--you understand--for when I came to you I found you withanother! I had reason, Mother of God! I had reason for my madness,reason enough; but I came in peace. Julie, I came in peace!"
"In peace," returned Mrs. Conroy, scornfully; "your note was a peacefulone, indeed!"
"Ah! but I knew not how else to make you hear me. I had news--news youunderstand, news that might save you, for I came from the woman whoholds the grant. Ah! you will listen, will you not? For one moment only,Julie, hear me, and I am gone."
Mrs. Conroy, with abstracted gaze, leaned against the tree. "Go on," shesaid coldly.
"Ah! you will listen then!" said Victor, joyfully; "and when you havelistened you shall understand! Well. First I have the fact that thelawyer for this woman is the man who deserted the Grace Conroy in themountains--the man who was called Philip Ashley, but whose real name isPoinsett."
"Who did you say?" said Mrs. Conroy, suddenly stepping from the tree,and fining a pair of cruel eyes on Ramirez.
"Arthur Poinsett--an ex-soldier, an officer. Ah, you do not believe--Iswear to God it is so!"
"What has this to do with me?" she said scornfully, resuming herposition beside the pine. "Go on--or is this all?"
"No, but it is much. Look you! he is the affianced of a rich widow inthe Southern Country, you understand? No one knows his past. Ah, youbegin to comprehend. He does not dare to seek out the real Grace Conroy.He shall not dare to press the claim of his client. Consequently, hedoes nothing!"
"Is this all your news?"
"All!--ah, no. There is one more, but I dare not speak it here," hesaid, glancing craftily around through the slowly darkening wood.
"Then it must remain untold," returned Mrs. Conroy, coldly; "for this isour last and only interview."
"But, Julie!"
"Have you done?" she continued, in the same tone.
Whether her indifference was assumed or not, it was effective. Ramirezglanced again quickly around, and then said, sulkily, "Come nearer, andI will tell you. Ah, you doubt--you doubt? Be it so." But seeing thatshe did not move, he drew toward the tree, and whispered--"Bend hereyour head--I will whisper it."
Mrs. Conroy, evading his outstretched hand, bent her head. He whispereda few words in her ear that were inaudible a foot from the tree.
"Did you tell this to him--to Gabriel?" she asked, fixing her eyes uponhim, yet without change in her frigid demeanour.
"No!--I swear to you, Julie, no! I would not have told him anything, butI was wild, crazy. And he was a brute, a great bear. He held me fast,here, so! I could not move. It was a forced confession. Yes--Mother ofGod--by force!"
Luckily for Victor the darkness hid the scorn that momentarily flashedin the woman's eyes at this corroboration of her husband's strength andthe weakness of the man before her. "And is this all that you have totell me?" she only said.
"All--I swear to you, Julie--all."
"Then listen, Victor Ramirez," she said, swiftly stepping from the treeinto the path before him, and facing him with a white and rigid face."Whatever was your purpose in coming here, it has been successful! Youhave done all that you intended, and more! The man whose mind you cameto poison--the man you wished to turn against me--has gone!--has leftme--left me never to return!--he never loved me! Your exposure of me wasto him a godsend, for it gave him an excuse for the insults he hasheaped upon me, for the treachery he has always hidden in his bosom!"
Even in the darkness she could see the self-complacent flash of Victor'steeth, could hear the quick, hurried sound of his breath as he bent hishead toward her, and knew that he was eagerly reaching out his hand forhers. He would have caught her gesturing hand and covered it withkisses, but that, divining his intention, without flinching from herposition, she whipped both her hands behind her.
"Well--you are satisfied! You have had your say and your way. Now Ishall have mine. Do you suppose I came here to-night to congratulateyou? No I came here to tell you that, insulted, outraged, and spurned asI have been by my husband, Gabriel Conroy--cast off and degraded as Istand here to-night--_I love him!_ Love him as I never loved any manbefore; love him as I never shall love any man again; love him as I hateyou! Love him so that I shall follow him wherever he goes, if I have todrag myself after him on my knees. His hatred is more precious to methan your love. Do you hear me, Victor Ramirez? That is what _I_ camehere to tell you. More than that--listen! The secret you have whisperedto me just now, whether true or false, I shall take to him. I will helphim to find his sister. I will make him love me yet if I sacrifice you,everybody, my own life, to do it! Do you hear that, Victor Ramirez, youdog!--you Spanish mongrel!--you half-breed. Oh, grit your teeth there inthe darkness--I know you--grit your teeth as you did to-day when Gabrielheld you squirming under his thumb! It was a fine sight, Victor--worthyof the manly Secretary who stole a dying girl's papers!--worthy of thevaliant soldier who abandoned his garrison to a Yankee pedlar and hismule! Oh, I know you, sir, and have known you from the first day I madeyou my tool--my dupe! Go on, sir, go on--draw your knife, do! I am notafraid, coward! I shall not scream, I promise you! Come on!"
With an insane, articulate gasp of rage and shame, he sprang toward herwith an uplifted knife. But at the same instant she saw a hand reachfrom the darkness and fall swiftly upon his shoulder, saw him turn andwith an oath struggle furiously in the arms of Devarges, and withoutwaiting to thank her deliverer, or learn the result of his interference,darted by the struggling pair and fled.
Possessed only by a single idea, she ran swiftly to her home. Here shepencilled a few hurried lines, and called one of her Chinese servants toher side.
"Take this, Ah Fe, and give it to Mr. Conroy. You will find him atLawyer Maxwell's, or if not there he will tell you where he has gone.But you must find him. If he has left town already, you must follow him.Find him within an hour and I'll double that"--she placed a gold piecein his hand. "Go at once."
However limited might have been Ah Fe's knowledge of the Englishlanguage, there was an eloquence in the woman's manner that needed notranslation. He nodded his head intelligently, said, "Me shabbeyou--muchee quick," caused the gold piece and the letter to instantlyvanish up his sleeve, and started from the house in a brisk trot. Nordid he allow any incidental diversion to interfere with the business inhand. The noise of struggling in the underbrush on Conroy's Hill and acry for help only extracted from Ah Fe the response, "You mucheego-to-hellee--no foolee me!" as he trotted unconcernedly by. In half anhour he had reached Lawyer Maxwell's office. But the news was notfavourable. Gabriel had left an hour before, they knew not where. Ah Fehesitated a moment, and then ran quickly down the hill to where a gangof his fellow-countrymen were working in a ditch at the roadside. Ah Fepaused, and uttered in a high recitative a series of the mostextraordinary ejaculations, utterly unintelligible to the few Americanswho chanced to be working near. But the effect was magical; in aninstant pick and shovel were laid aside, and before the astonishedminers could comprehend it the entire gang of Chinamen had dispersed,and in another instant were scattered over the several trails leadingout of One Horse Gulch, except one.
That one was luckily taken by Ah Fe. In half an hour he came upon theobject of his search, settled on a boulder by the wayside, smoking hisevening pipe. His pick, shovel, and pack lay by his side. Ah Fe did notwaste time in preliminary speech or introduction. He simply handed themissive to his master, and instantly turned his back upon him anddeparted. In another half hour every Chinaman was back in the ditch,working silently as if nothing had happened.
Gabriel laid aside his pipe and held the letter a moment hesitatinglybetween his finger and thumb. Then opening it, he at once recognised thesmall Italian hand with which his wife had kept his accounts and writtenfrom his dictation, and something like a faint feeling of regretovercame him as he gazed at it, without taking the meaning of the text.And then, with the hesitation,
repetition, and audible utterance of anilliterate person, he slowly read the following:--
"I was wrong. You have left something behind you--a secret that as you value your happiness, you must take with you. If you come to Conroy's Hill within the next two hours you shall know it, for I shall not enter that house again, and leave there to-night for ever. I do not ask you to come for the sake of your wife, but for the sake of a woman she once personated. You will come because you love Grace, not because you care for JULIE."
There was but one fact that Gabriel clearly grasped in this letter. Thatwas, that it referred to some news of Grace. That was enough. He putaway his pipe, rose, shouldered his pack and pick, and deliberatelyretraced his steps. When he reached the town, with the shame-facednessof a man who had just taken leave of it for ever, he avoided the mainthoroughfare, but did this so clumsily and incautiously, after hissimple fashion, that two or three of the tunnel-men noticed himascending the hill by an inconvenient and seldom used by-path. He didnot stay long, however, for in a short time--some said ten, others saidfifteen minutes--he was seen again, descending rapidly and recklessly,and crossing the Gulch disappeared in the bushes, at the base of BaldMountain.
With the going down of the sun that night, the temperature fell also,and the fierce, dry, desert heat that had filled the land for the pastfew days, fled away before a fierce wind which rose with the coldlyrising moon, that, during the rest of the night, rode calmly over thetwisting tops of writhing pines on Conroy's Hill, over the rattlingwindows of the town, and over the beaten dust of mountain roads. Buteven with the night the wind passed too, and the sun arose the nextmorning upon a hushed and silent landscape. It touched, according to itshabit, first the tall top of the giant pine on Conroy's Hill, and thenslid softly down its shaft until it reached the ground. And there itfound Victor Ramirez, with a knife thrust through his heart, lyingdead!
BOOK VI.
_A DIP._