author - "Bret Harte"
rade winds by the oppositeside of the court. But Susy did not seem inclined to linger therelong that morning, in spite of Mrs. Peyton's evident desire for amaternal tete-a-tete. The nervous preoccupation and capriciousennui of an indulged child showed in her pretty but discontentedface, and knit her curved eyebrows, and Peyton saw a look of painpass over his wife's face as the young girl suddenly and half-laughingly broke away and fluttered off towards the old garden.
Mrs. Peyton looked up and caught her husband's eye.
"I am afraid Susy finds it more dull here every time she returns,"she said, with an apologetic smile. "I am glad she has invited oneof her school friends to come for a visit to-morrow. You know,yourself, John," she added, with a slight partisan attitude, "thatthe lonely old house and wild plain are not particularly lively foryoung people, however much they may suit YOUR ways."
"It certainly must be dull if she can't stand it for three weeks inthe year," said her husban
r, or folded in a blue handkerchief, and laid them, with fingers more or less worn and stubby from hard service, before the consul for his signature. Once, in the case of a very young Madchen, that signature was blotted by the sweep of a flaxen braid upon it as the child turned to go; but generally there was a grave, serious business instinct and sense of responsibility in these girls of ordinary peasant origin which, equally with their sisters of France, were unknown to the English or American woman of any class.
That morning, however, there was a slight stir among those who, with their knitting, were waiting their turn in the outer office as the vice-consul ushered the police inspector into the consul's private office. He was in uniform, of course, and it took him a moment to recover from his habitual stiff, military salute,--a little stiffer than that of the actual soldier.
It was a matter of importance! A stranger had that morning been arrested in the town and identified as a military desert
nse of keeping herhere on account of his pride, under the thin pretext of trying to"cure" her. She knew that Sally Atherly of Rough and Ready wasn'tconsidered fit company for "Atherly of Atherly" by his fine newfriends. This and much more in a voice mingling maudlin sentimentwith bitter resentment, and with an ominous glitter in her bloodshotand glairy eyes. Peter winced with a consciousness of thehalf-truth of her reproaches, but the curiosity and excitementawakened by the revelations of her frenzy were greater than hisremorse. He said quickly:--
"You were speaking of father!--of his family--his lands andpossessions. Tell me again!"
"Wot are ye givin' us?" she ejaculated in husky suspicion, openingupon him her beady eyes, in which the film of death was alreadygathering.
"Tell me of father,--my father and his family! his great-grandfather!--the Atherlys, my relations--what you were saying.What do you know about them?"
"THAT'S all ye wanter know--is it? THAT'S what ye'r' comin'
rubbed a short, thick, stumpy beard, that bore ageneral resemblance to a badly-worn blacking-brush, with the palmof his hand, and went on, "You had a good time, Jinny?"
"Yes, father."
"They was all there?"
"Yes, Rance and York and Ryder and Jack."
"And Jack!" Mr. McClosky endeavored to throw an expression of archinquiry into his small, tremulous eyes; but meeting the unabashed,widely-opened lid of his daughter, he winked rapidly, and blushedto the roots of his hair.
"Yes, Jack was there," said Jenny, without change of color, or theleast self-consciousness in her great gray eyes; "and he came homewith me." She paused a moment, locking her two hands under herhead, and assuming a more comfortable position on the pillow. "Heasked me that same question again, father, and I said, 'Yes.' It'sto be--soon. We're going to live at Four Forks, in his own house;and next winter we're going to Sacramento. I suppose it's allright, father, eh?" She emphasized the question with a slight kick
ry!glory!" he continued, with fluent vacuity and wandering, dull,observant eyes.
"But if I had a little more practice in class, Brother Silas, moreeducation?"
"The letter killeth," interrupted Brother Silas. Here hiswandering eyes took dull cognizance of two female faces peeringthrough the opening of the tent. "No, yer mishun, Brother Gideon,is to seek Him in the by-ways, in the wilderness,--where the foxeshev holes and the ravens hev their young,--but not in the Templesof the people. Wot sez Sister Parsons?"
One of the female faces detached itself from the tent flaps, whichit nearly resembled in color, and brought forward an angular figureclothed in faded fustian that had taken the various shades andodors of household service.
"Brother Silas speaks well," said Sister Parsons, with stridulousfluency. "It's fore-ordained. Fore-ordinashun is better norordinashun, saith the Lord. He shall go forth, turnin' neither tothe right hand nor the left hand, and seek Him among the losttri
ained breath. "That engineer will bedown here to take charge as soon as the six o'clock stage comes in.He's an oldish chap, has got a family of two daughters, and--I--am--d----d if he is not bringing them down here with him."
"Oh, go long!" exclaimed the five men in one voice, raisingthemselves on their hands and elbows, and glaring at the speaker.
"Fact, boys! Soon as I found it out I just waltzed into that Jewshop at the Crossing and bought up all the clothes that would belikely to suit you fellows, before anybody else got a show. Ireckon I cleared out the shop. The duds are a little mixed instyle, but I reckon they're clean and whole, and a man might face alady in 'em. I left them round at the old Buckeye Spring, wherethey're handy without attracting attention. You boys can go therefor a general wash-up, rig yourselves up without saying anything,and then meander back careless and easy in your store clothes, justas the stage is coming in, sabe?"
"Why didn't you let us know earlie
finally at that moment, they would have done so with no more concern for preliminary detail than a bird or squirrel. The wagon rolled steadily on. The boy could see that one of the teamsters had climbed up on the tail-board of the preceding vehicle. The other seemed to be walking in a dusty sleep.
"Kla'uns," said the girl.
The boy, without turning his head, responded, "Susy."
"Wot are you going to be?" said the girl.
"Goin' to be?" repeated Clarence.
"When you is growed," explained Susy.
Clarence hesitated. His settled determination had been to become a pirate, merciless yet discriminating. But reading in a bethumbed "Guide to the Plains" that morning of Fort Lamarie and Kit Carson, he had decided upon the career of a "scout," as being more accessible and requiring less water. Yet, out of compassion for Susy's possible ignorance, he said neither, and responded with the American boy's modest conventionality, "President." It was safe, required no embarrassing descriptio
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
BY MR. BENJAMINS.
CHAPTER I.
"I remember him a little boy," said the Duchess. "His mother was a dear friend of mine; you know she was one of my bridesmaids."
"And you have never seen him since, mamma?" asked the oldest married daughter, who did not look a day older than her mother.
"Never; he was an orphan shortly after. I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys."
This simple yet first-class conversation existed in the morning- room of Plusham, where the mistress of the palatial mansion sat involved in the sacred privacy of a circle of her married daughters. One dexterously applied golden knitting-needles to the fabrication of a purse of floss silk of the rarest texture, which none who knew the almost fabulous wealth of the Duke would believe was ever destined to hold in its silken meshes a less sum than L1,000,000; another adorned a slipper exclusively with
rade winds by the oppositeside of the court. But Susy did not seem inclined to linger therelong that morning, in spite of Mrs. Peyton's evident desire for amaternal tete-a-tete. The nervous preoccupation and capriciousennui of an indulged child showed in her pretty but discontentedface, and knit her curved eyebrows, and Peyton saw a look of painpass over his wife's face as the young girl suddenly and half-laughingly broke away and fluttered off towards the old garden.
Mrs. Peyton looked up and caught her husband's eye.
"I am afraid Susy finds it more dull here every time she returns,"she said, with an apologetic smile. "I am glad she has invited oneof her school friends to come for a visit to-morrow. You know,yourself, John," she added, with a slight partisan attitude, "thatthe lonely old house and wild plain are not particularly lively foryoung people, however much they may suit YOUR ways."
"It certainly must be dull if she can't stand it for three weeks inthe year," said her husban
r, or folded in a blue handkerchief, and laid them, with fingers more or less worn and stubby from hard service, before the consul for his signature. Once, in the case of a very young Madchen, that signature was blotted by the sweep of a flaxen braid upon it as the child turned to go; but generally there was a grave, serious business instinct and sense of responsibility in these girls of ordinary peasant origin which, equally with their sisters of France, were unknown to the English or American woman of any class.
That morning, however, there was a slight stir among those who, with their knitting, were waiting their turn in the outer office as the vice-consul ushered the police inspector into the consul's private office. He was in uniform, of course, and it took him a moment to recover from his habitual stiff, military salute,--a little stiffer than that of the actual soldier.
It was a matter of importance! A stranger had that morning been arrested in the town and identified as a military desert
nse of keeping herhere on account of his pride, under the thin pretext of trying to"cure" her. She knew that Sally Atherly of Rough and Ready wasn'tconsidered fit company for "Atherly of Atherly" by his fine newfriends. This and much more in a voice mingling maudlin sentimentwith bitter resentment, and with an ominous glitter in her bloodshotand glairy eyes. Peter winced with a consciousness of thehalf-truth of her reproaches, but the curiosity and excitementawakened by the revelations of her frenzy were greater than hisremorse. He said quickly:--
"You were speaking of father!--of his family--his lands andpossessions. Tell me again!"
"Wot are ye givin' us?" she ejaculated in husky suspicion, openingupon him her beady eyes, in which the film of death was alreadygathering.
"Tell me of father,--my father and his family! his great-grandfather!--the Atherlys, my relations--what you were saying.What do you know about them?"
"THAT'S all ye wanter know--is it? THAT'S what ye'r' comin'
rubbed a short, thick, stumpy beard, that bore ageneral resemblance to a badly-worn blacking-brush, with the palmof his hand, and went on, "You had a good time, Jinny?"
"Yes, father."
"They was all there?"
"Yes, Rance and York and Ryder and Jack."
"And Jack!" Mr. McClosky endeavored to throw an expression of archinquiry into his small, tremulous eyes; but meeting the unabashed,widely-opened lid of his daughter, he winked rapidly, and blushedto the roots of his hair.
"Yes, Jack was there," said Jenny, without change of color, or theleast self-consciousness in her great gray eyes; "and he came homewith me." She paused a moment, locking her two hands under herhead, and assuming a more comfortable position on the pillow. "Heasked me that same question again, father, and I said, 'Yes.' It'sto be--soon. We're going to live at Four Forks, in his own house;and next winter we're going to Sacramento. I suppose it's allright, father, eh?" She emphasized the question with a slight kick
ry!glory!" he continued, with fluent vacuity and wandering, dull,observant eyes.
"But if I had a little more practice in class, Brother Silas, moreeducation?"
"The letter killeth," interrupted Brother Silas. Here hiswandering eyes took dull cognizance of two female faces peeringthrough the opening of the tent. "No, yer mishun, Brother Gideon,is to seek Him in the by-ways, in the wilderness,--where the foxeshev holes and the ravens hev their young,--but not in the Templesof the people. Wot sez Sister Parsons?"
One of the female faces detached itself from the tent flaps, whichit nearly resembled in color, and brought forward an angular figureclothed in faded fustian that had taken the various shades andodors of household service.
"Brother Silas speaks well," said Sister Parsons, with stridulousfluency. "It's fore-ordained. Fore-ordinashun is better norordinashun, saith the Lord. He shall go forth, turnin' neither tothe right hand nor the left hand, and seek Him among the losttri
ained breath. "That engineer will bedown here to take charge as soon as the six o'clock stage comes in.He's an oldish chap, has got a family of two daughters, and--I--am--d----d if he is not bringing them down here with him."
"Oh, go long!" exclaimed the five men in one voice, raisingthemselves on their hands and elbows, and glaring at the speaker.
"Fact, boys! Soon as I found it out I just waltzed into that Jewshop at the Crossing and bought up all the clothes that would belikely to suit you fellows, before anybody else got a show. Ireckon I cleared out the shop. The duds are a little mixed instyle, but I reckon they're clean and whole, and a man might face alady in 'em. I left them round at the old Buckeye Spring, wherethey're handy without attracting attention. You boys can go therefor a general wash-up, rig yourselves up without saying anything,and then meander back careless and easy in your store clothes, justas the stage is coming in, sabe?"
"Why didn't you let us know earlie
finally at that moment, they would have done so with no more concern for preliminary detail than a bird or squirrel. The wagon rolled steadily on. The boy could see that one of the teamsters had climbed up on the tail-board of the preceding vehicle. The other seemed to be walking in a dusty sleep.
"Kla'uns," said the girl.
The boy, without turning his head, responded, "Susy."
"Wot are you going to be?" said the girl.
"Goin' to be?" repeated Clarence.
"When you is growed," explained Susy.
Clarence hesitated. His settled determination had been to become a pirate, merciless yet discriminating. But reading in a bethumbed "Guide to the Plains" that morning of Fort Lamarie and Kit Carson, he had decided upon the career of a "scout," as being more accessible and requiring less water. Yet, out of compassion for Susy's possible ignorance, he said neither, and responded with the American boy's modest conventionality, "President." It was safe, required no embarrassing descriptio
IN SEARCH OF A RELIGION.
BY MR. BENJAMINS.
CHAPTER I.
"I remember him a little boy," said the Duchess. "His mother was a dear friend of mine; you know she was one of my bridesmaids."
"And you have never seen him since, mamma?" asked the oldest married daughter, who did not look a day older than her mother.
"Never; he was an orphan shortly after. I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys."
This simple yet first-class conversation existed in the morning- room of Plusham, where the mistress of the palatial mansion sat involved in the sacred privacy of a circle of her married daughters. One dexterously applied golden knitting-needles to the fabrication of a purse of floss silk of the rarest texture, which none who knew the almost fabulous wealth of the Duke would believe was ever destined to hold in its silken meshes a less sum than L1,000,000; another adorned a slipper exclusively with