By Shore and Sedge by Bret Harte (first e reader txt) đ
- Author: Bret Harte
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âBut not as I did,â said Rosey with an abstracted little sigh.
Mr. Renshaw opened his brown eyes upon her. Was he mistaken? was this romantic girl only a little coquette playing her provincial airs on him? âYou say he and your father didnât agree? That means, I suppose, that YOU and he agreed?âand that was the result.â
âI donât think father knew anything about it,â said Rosey simply.
Mr. Renshaw rose. And this was what he had been waiting to hear! âPerhaps,â he said grimly, âyou would also like news of the photographer and Captain Bower, or did your father agree with them better?â
âNo,â said Rosey quietly. She remained silent for a moment, and lifting her lashes said, âFather always seemed to agree with YOU, and thatââ she hesitated.
âThatâs why YOU donât.â
âI didnât say that,â said Rosey with an incongruous increase of coldness and color. âI only meant to say it was that which makes it seem so hard you should go now.â
Notwithstanding his previous determination Renshaw found himself sitting down again. Confused and pleased, wishing he had said moreâor lessâhe said nothing, and Rosey was forced to continue.
âItâs strange, isnât itâbut father was urging me this morning to make a visit to some friends at the old Ranch. I didnât want to go. I like it much better here.â
âBut you cannot bury yourself here forever, Miss Nott,â said Renshaw with a sudden burst of honest enthusiasm. âSooner or later you will be forced to go where you will be properly appreciated, where you will be admired and courted, where your slightest wish will be law. Believe me, without flattery, you donât know your own power.â
âIt doesnât seem strong enough to keep even the little I like here,â said Rosey with a slight glistening of the eyes. âBut,â she added hastily, âyou donât know how much the dear old ship is to me. Itâs the only home I think I ever had.â
âBut the Ranch?â said Renshaw.
âThe Ranch seemed to be only the old wagon halted in the road. It was a very little improvement on outdoors,â said Rosey with a little shiver. âBut this is so cozy and snug and yet so strange and foreign. Do you know I think I began to understand why I like it so since you taught me so much about ships and voyages. Before that I only learned from books. Books deceive you, I think, more than people do. Donât you think so?â
She evidently did not notice the quick flush that covered his cheeks and apparently dazzled his troubled eyelid for she went on confidentially.
âI was thinking of you yesterday. I was sitting by the galley door, looking forward. You remember the first day I saw you when you startled me by coming up out of the hatch?â
âI wish you wouldnât think of that,â said Renshaw, with more earnestness than he would have made apparent.
âI donât want to either,â said Rosey, gravely, âfor Iâve had a strange fancy about it. I saw once when I was younger, a picture in a print shop in Montgomery Street that haunted me. I think it was called âThe Pirate.â There was a number of wicked-looking sailors lying around the deck, and coming out of a hatch was one figure with his hands on the deck and a cutlass in his mouth.â
âThank you,â said Renshaw.
âYou donât understand. He was horrid-looking, not at all like you. I never thought of HIM when I first saw you; but the other day I thought how dreadful it would have been if some one like him and not like you had come up then. That made me nervous sometimes of being alone. I think father is too. He often goes about stealthily at night, as if he was watching for something.â
Renshawâs face grew suddenly dark. Could it be possible that Sleight had always suspected him, and set spies to watchâor was he guilty of some double intrigue?
âHe thinks,â continued Rosey with a faint smile, âthat some one is looking around the ship, and talks of setting bear-traps. I hope youâre not mad, Mr. Renshaw,â she added, suddenly catching sight of his changed expression, âat my foolishness in saying you reminded me of the pirate. I meant nothing.â
âI know youâre incapable of meaning anything but good to anybody, Miss Nott, perhaps to me more than I deserve,â said Renshaw with a sudden burst of feeling. âI wishâI wishâyou would do ME a favor. YOU asked me one just now.â He had taken her hand. It seemed so like a mere illustration of his earnestness, that she did not withdraw it. âYour father tells you everything. If he has any offer to dispose of the ship, will you write to me at once before anything is concluded?â He winced a littleâthe sentence of Sleight, âWhatâs the figure you and she have settled upon?â flashed across his mind. He scarcely noticed that Rosey had withdrawn her hand coldly.
âPerhaps you had better speak to father, as it is HIS business. Besides, I shall not be here. I shall be at the Ranch.â
âBut you said you didnât want to go?â
âIâve changed my mind,â said Rosey listlessly. âI shall go to-night.â
She rose as if to indicate that the interview was ended. With an overpowering instinct that his whole future happiness depended upon his next act, he made a step towards her, with eager outstretched hands. But she slightly lifted her own with a warning gesture, âI hear father comingâyou will have a chance to talk BUSINESS with him,â she said, and vanished into her stateroom.
VIThe heavy tread of Abner Nott echoed in the passage. Confused and embarrassed, Renshaw remained standing at the door that had closed upon Rosey as her father entered the cabin. Providence, which always fostered Mr. Nottâs characteristic misconceptions, left that perspicacious parent but one interpretation of the situation. Rosey had evidently just informed Mr. Renshaw that she loved another!
âI was just saying âgood-byâ to Miss Nott,â said Renshaw, hastily regaining his composure with an effort. âI am going to Sacramento to-night, and will not return. Iââ
âIn course, in course,â interrupted Nott, soothingly; âthatâs wot you say now, and thatâs what you allow to do. Thatâs wot they allus do.â
âI mean,â said Renshaw, reddening at what he conceived to be an allusion to the absconding propensities of Nottâs previous tenants,ââI mean that you shall keep the advance to cover any loss you might suffer through my giving up the rooms.â
âCertingly,â said Nott, laying his hand with a large sympathy on Renshawâs shoulder; âbut weâll drop that just now. We wonât swap hosses in the middle of the river. Weâll square up accounts in your room,â he added, raising his voice that Rosey might overhear him, after a preliminary wink at the young man. âYes, sir, weâll just square up and settle in there. Come along, Mr. Renshaw.â Pushing him with paternal gentleness from the cabin, with his hand still upon his shoulder, he followed him into the passage. Half annoyed at his familiarity, yet not altogether displeased by this illustration of Roseyâs belief of his preference, Renshaw wonderingly accompanied him. Nott closed the door, and pushing the young man into a chair, deliberately seated himself at the table opposite. âItâs just as well that Rosey reckons that you and me is settlinâ our accounts,â he began, cunningly, âand mebbee itâs just ez well ez she should reckon youâre goinâ away.â
âBut I AM going,â interrupted Renshaw, impatiently. âI leave to-night.â
âSurely, surely,â said Nott, gently, âthatâs wot you kalkilate to do; thatâs just natâral in a young feller. Thatâs about what I reckon IâD hev done to her mother if anythinâ like this hed ever cropped up, which it didnât. Not but what Almiry Jane had young fellers enough round her, but, âcept ole Judge Peter, ez was lamed in the War of 1812, there ainât no similarity ez I kin see,â he added, musingly.
âI am afraid I canât see any similarity either, Mr. Nott,â said Renshaw, struggling between a dawning sense of some impending absurdity and his growing passion for Rosey. âFor Heavenâs sake speak out if youâve got anything to say.â
Mr. Nott leaned forward, and placed his large hand on the young manâs shoulder. âThatâs it. Thatâs what I sed to myself when I seed how things were pintinâ. âSpeak out,â sez I, âAbner! Speak out if youâve got anything to say. You kin trust this yer Mr. Renshaw. He ainât the kind of man to creep into the bosom of a manâs ship for pupposes of his own. He ainât a man that would hunt round until he discovered a poor manâs treasure, and then try to robâââ
âStop!â said Renshaw, with a set face and darkening eyes. âWHAT treasure? WHAT man are you speaking of?â
âWhy Rosey and Mr. Ferrers,â returned Nott, simply.
Renshaw sank into his seat again. But the expression of relief which here passed swiftly over his face gave way to one of uneasy interest as Nott went on.
âPârâaps itâs a little highfalutin talkinâ of Rosey ez a treasure. But, considerinâ, Mr. Renshaw, ez sheâs the only propâty Iâve kept by me for seventeen years ez hez paid interest and increased in valooe, it ainât sayinâ too much to call her so. And ez Ferrers knows this, he oughter been content with gouginâ me in that horsehair spec, without goinâ for Rosey. Pârâaps yer surprised at hearing me speak oâ my own flesh and blood ez if I was talkinâ hoss-trade, but you and me is busâness men, Mr. Renshaw, and we discusses ez such. We ainât goinâ to slosh round and slop over in poâtry and sentiment,â continued Nott, with a tremulous voice, and a hand that slightly shook on Renshawâs shoulder. âWe ainât goinâ to git up and sing, âThouâst larned to love another thouâst broken every vow weâve parted from each other and my bozomâs lonely now oh is it well to sever such hearts as ourn for ever kin I forget thee never farewell farewell farewell.â Ye never happenâd to hear Jim Baker sing that at the moosic hall on Dupont Street, Mr. Renshaw,â continued Mr. Nott, enthusiastically, when he had recovered from that complete absence of punctuation which alone suggested verse to his intellect. âHe sorter struck water down here,â indicating his heart, âevery time.â
âBut what has Miss Nott to do with M. de Ferrieres?â asked Renshaw, with a faint smile.
Mr. Nott regarded him with dumb, round, astonished eyes. âHeznât she told yer?â
âCertainly not.â
âAnd she didnât let on anythinâ about him?â he continued, feebly.
âShe said sheâd liked to know whereââ He stopped, with the reflection that he was betraying her confidences.
A dim foreboding of some new form of deceit, to which even the man before him was a consenting party, almost paralyzed Nottâs faculties. âThen she didnât tell yer that she and Ferrers was sparkinâ and keepinâ kimpany together; that she and him was engaged, and was kalkilatinâ to run away to furrin parts; that she cottoned to him more than to the ship or her father?â
âShe certainly did not, and I shouldnât believe it,â said Renshaw, quickly.
Nott smiled. He was amused; he astutely recognized the usual trustfulness of love and youth. There was clearly no deceit here! Renshawâs attentive eyes saw the smile, and his brow darkened.
âI like to hear yer say that, Mr. Renshaw,â said Nott, âand itâs no more than Rosey deserves, ez itâs suthing onnatâral and spell-like thatâs come over her through Ferrers. It ainât my Rosey. But itâs Gospel truth, whether sheâs bewitched or not; whether itâs them damn fool stories she readsâand itâs like ez
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