The Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Tales. Bret Harte

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СКАЧАТЬ eminent pioneers, tired of the effete civilization of the East and its inhospitable climate, resolved to join her noble husband upon these golden shores. Without informing him of her intention, she undertook the long journey, and arrived last week. The joy of the husband may be easier imagined than described. The meeting is said to have been indescribably affecting. We trust her example may be followed.”

      Whether owing to Mrs. Brown’s influence, or to some more successful speculations, Mr. Brown’s financial fortune from that day steadily improved. He bought out his partners in the “Nip and Tuck” lead, with money which was said to have been won at poker a week or two after his wife’s arrival, but which rumor, adopting Mrs. Brown’s theory that Brown had forsworn the gaming-table, declared to have been furnished by Mr. Jack Hamlin. He built and furnished the Wingdam House, which pretty Mrs. Brown’s great popularity kept overflowing with guests. He was elected to the Assembly, and gave largess to churches. A street in Wingdam was named in his honor.

      Yet it was noted that in proportion as he waxed wealthy and fortunate, he grew pale, thin, and anxious. As his wife’s popularity increased, he became fretful and impatient. The most uxorious of husbands, he was absurdly jealous. If he did not interfere with his wife’s social liberty, it was because it was maliciously whispered that his first and only attempt was met by an outburst from Mrs. Brown that terrified him into silence. Much of this kind of gossip came from those of her own sex whom she had supplanted in the chivalrous attentions of Wingdam, which, like most popular chivalry, was devoted to an admiration of power, whether of masculine force or feminine beauty. It should be remembered, too, in her extenuation, that, since her arrival, she had been the unconscious priestess of a mythological worship, perhaps not more ennobling to her womanhood than that which distinguished an older Greek democracy. I think that Brown was dimly conscious of this. But his only confidant was Jack Hamlin, whose infelix reputation naturally precluded any open intimacy with the family, and whose visits were infrequent.

      It was midsummer and a moonlit night, and Mrs. Brown, very rosy, large-eyed, and pretty, sat upon the piazza, enjoying the fresh incense of the mountain breeze, and, it is to be feared, another incense which was not so fresh nor quite as innocent. Beside her sat Colonel Starbottle and Judge Boompointer, and a later addition to her court in the shape of a foreign tourist. She was in good spirits.

      “What do you see down the road?” inquired the gallant Colonel, who had been conscious, for the last few minutes, that Mrs. Brown’s attention was diverted.

      “Dust,” said Mrs. Brown, with a sigh. “Only Sister Anne’s ‘flock of sheep.’”

      The Colonel, whose literary recollections did not extend farther back than last week’s paper, took a more practical view. “It ain’t sheep,” he continued; “it’s a horseman. Judge, ain’t that Jack Hamlin’s gray?”

      But the Judge didn’t know; and, as Mrs. Brown suggested the air was growing too cold for further investigations, they retired to the parlor.

      Mr. Brown was in the stable, where he generally retired after dinner. Perhaps it was to show his contempt for his wife’s companions; perhaps, like other weak natures, he found pleasure in the exercise of absolute power over inferior animals. He had a certain gratification in the training of a chestnut mare, whom he could beat or caress as pleased him, which he couldn’t do with Mrs. Brown. It was here that he recognized a certain gray horse which had just come in, and, looking a little farther on, found his rider. Brown’s greeting was cordial and hearty; Mr. Hamlin’s somewhat restrained. But, at Brown’s urgent request, he followed him up the back stairs to a narrow corridor, and thence to a small room looking out upon the stable-yard. It was plainly furnished with a bed, a table, a few chairs, and a rack for guns and whips.

      “This yer’s my home, Jack,” said Brown with a sigh, as he threw himself upon the bed and motioned his companion to a chair. “Her room’s t’ other end of the hall. It’s more’n six months since we’ve lived together, or met, except at meals. It’s mighty rough papers on the head of the house, ain’t it?” he said with a forced laugh. “But I’m glad to see you, Jack, d—d glad,” and he reached from the bed, and again shook the unresponsive hand of Jack Hamlin.

      “I brought ye up here, for I didn’t want to talk in the stable; though, for the matter of that, it’s all round town. Don’t strike a light. We can talk here in the moonshine. Put up your feet on that winder and sit here beside me. Thar’s whiskey in that jug.”

      Mr. Hamlin did not avail himself of the information. Brown of Calaveras turned his face to the wall, and continued,—

      “If I didn’t love the woman, Jack, I wouldn’t mind. But it’s loving her, and seeing her day arter day goin’ on at this rate, and no one to put down the brake; that’s what gits me! But I’m glad to see ye, Jack, d—d glad.”

      In the darkness he groped about until he had found and wrung his companion’s hand again. He would have detained it, but Jack slipped it into the buttoned breast of his coat, and asked listlessly, “How long has this been going on?”

      “Ever since she came here; ever since the day she walked into the Magnolia. I was a fool then; Jack, I’m a fool now; but I didn’t know how much I loved her till then. And she hasn’t been the same woman since.

      “But that ain’t all, Jack; and it’s what I wanted to see you about, and I’m glad you’ve come. It ain’t that she doesn’t love me any more; it ain’t that she fools with every chap that comes along; for perhaps I staked her love and lost it, as I did everything else at the Magnolia; and perhaps foolin’ is nateral to some women, and thar ain’t no great harm done, ‘cept to the fools. But, Jack, I think,—I think she loves somebody else. Don’t move, Jack! don’t move; if your pistol hurts ye, take it off.

      “It’s been more’n six months now that she’s seemed unhappy and lonesome, and kinder nervous and scared-like. And sometimes I’ve ketched her lookin’ at me sort of timid and pitying. And she writes to somebody. And for the last week she’s been gathering her own things,—trinkets, and furbelows, and jew’lry,—and, Jack, I think she’s goin’ off. I could stand all but that. To have her steal away like a thief!” He put his face downward to the pillow, and for a few moments there was no sound but the ticking of a clock on the mantel. Mr. Hamlin lit a cigar, and moved to the open window. The moon no longer shone into the room, and the bed and its occupant were in shadow. “What shall I do, Jack?” said the voice from the darkness.

      The answer came promptly and clearly from the window-side, “Spot the man, and kill him on sight.”

      “But, Jack”—

      “He’s took the risk!”

      “But will that bring her back?”

      Jack did not reply, but moved from the window towards the door.

      “Don’t go yet, Jack; light the candle and sit by the table. It’s a comfort to see ye, if nothin’ else.”

      Jack hesitated and then complied. He drew a pack of cards from his pocket and shuffled them, glancing at the bed. But Brown’s face was turned to the wall. When Mr. Hamlin had shuffled the cards, he cut them, and dealt one card on the opposite side of the table towards the bed, and another on his side of the table for himself. The first was a deuce; his own card a king. He then shuffled and cut again. This time “dummy” had a queen and himself a four-spot. Jack brightened up for the third deal. It brought his adversary a deuce and himself a king again. “Two out of three,” said Jack audibly.

      “What’s that, Jack?” said Brown.

      “Nothing.”

      Then Jack tried his hand with СКАЧАТЬ