Perhaps he knows Im here, said Mornie, with a bitter laugh.
I didnt say that, said Rand, and I dont think it. What I meant was, he might have met a party that was picnicking here to-day,Sol. Saunders and wife, and Miss Euphemia
Mornie flung his arm away from her with a passionate gesture. THEY here!picnicking HERE!those people HERE!
Yes, said Rand, unconsciously a little ashamed. They came here accidentally.
Mornies quick passion had subsided: she had sunk again wearily and helplessly on a rock beside him. I suppose, she said, with a weak laughI suppose, they talked of ME. I suppose they told you how, with their lies and fair promises, they tricked me out, and set me before an audience of brutes and laughing hyenas to make merry over. Did they tell you of the insults that I received?how the sins of my parents were flung at me instead of bouquets? Did they tell you they could have spared me this, but they wanted the few extra dollars taken in at the door? No!
They said nothing of the kind, replied Rand surlily.
Then you must have stopped them. You were horrified enough to know that I had dared to take the only honest way left me to make a living. I know you, Randolph Pinkney! Youd rather see Joaquin Muriatta, the Mexican bandit, standing before you to-night with a revolver, than the helpless, shamed, miserable Mornie Nixon. And you cant help yourself, unless you throw me over the cliff. Perhaps youd better, she said, with a bitter laugh that faded from her lips as she leaned, pale and breathless, against the bowlder.
Ruth will tell you began Rand.
Dn Ruth!
Rand turned away.
Stop! she said suddenly, staggering to her feet. Im sickfor all I know, dying. God grant that it may be so! But, if you are a man, you will help me to your cabinto some place where I can lie down NOW, and be at rest. Im very, very tired.
She paused. She would have fallen again; but Rand, seeing more in her face than her voice interpreted to his sullen ears, took her sullenly in his arms, and carried her to the cabin. Her eyes glanced around the bright party-colored walls, and a faint smile came to her lips as she put aside her bonnet, adorned with a companion pinion of the bright wings that covered it.
Which is Ruths bed? she asked.
Rand pointed to it.
Lay me there!
Rand would have hesitated, but, with another look at her face, complied.
She lay quite still a moment. Presently she said, Give me some brandy or whiskey!
Rand was silent and confused.
I forgot, she added half bitterly. I know you have not that commonest and cheapest of vices.
She lay quite still again. Suddenly she raised herself partly on her elbow, and in a strong, firm voice, said, Rand!
Yes, Mornie.
If you are wise and practical, as you assume to be, you will do what I ask you without a question. If you do it AT ONCE, you may save yourself and Ruth some trouble, some mortification, and perhaps some remorse and sorrow. Do you hear me?
Yes.
Go to the nearest doctor, and bring him here with you.
But YOU!
Her voice was strong, confident, steady, and patient. You can safely leave me until then.
In another moment Rand was plunging down the slide. But it was past midnight when he struggled over the last bowlder up the ascent, dragging the half-exhausted medical wisdom of Browns Ferry on his arm.
Ive been gone long, doctor, said Rand feverishly, and she looked SO death-like when I left. If we should be too late!
The doctor stopped suddenly, lifted his head, and pricked his ears like a hound on a peculiar scent. We ARE too late, he said, with a slight professional laugh.
Indignant and horrified, Rand turned upon him.
Listen, said the doctor, lifting his hand.
Rand listened, so intently that he heard the familiar moan of the river below; but the great stony field lay silent before him. And then, borne across its bare barren bosom, like its own articulation, came faintly the feeble wail of a new-born babe.
III. STORM.
The doctor hurried ahead in the darkness. Rand, who had stopped paralyzed at the ominous sound, started forward again mechanically; but as the cry arose again more distinctly, and the full significance of the doctors words came to him, he faltered, stopped, and, with cheeks burning with shame and helpless indignation, sank upon a stone beside the shaft, and, burying his face in his hands, fairly gave way to a burst of boyish tears. Yet even then the recollection that he had not cried since, years ago, his mothers dying hands had joined his and Ruths childish fingers together, stung him fiercely, and dried his tears in angry heat upon his cheeks.
How long he sat there, he remembered not; what he thought, he recalled not. But the wildest and most extravagant plans and resolves availed him nothing in the face of this forever desecrated home, and this shameful culmination of his ambitious life on the mountain. Once he thought of flight; but the reflection that he would still abandon his brother to shame, perhaps a self-contented shame, checked him hopelessly. Could he avert the future? He MUST; but how? Yet he could only sit and stare into the darkness in dumb abstraction.
Sitting there, his eyes fell upon a peculiar object in a crevice of the ledge beside the shaft. It was the tin pail containing his dinner, which, according to their custom, it was the duty of the brother who staid above ground to prepare and place for the brother who worked below. Ruth must, consequently, have put it there before he left that morning, and Rand had overlooked it while sharing the repast of the strangers at noon. At the sight of this dumb witness of their mutual cares and labors, Rand sighed, half in brotherly sorrow, half in a selfish sense of injury done him.
He took up the pail mechanically, removed its cover, andstarted; for on top of the carefully bestowed provisions lay a little note, addressed to him in Ruths peculiar scrawl.
He opened it with feverish hands, held it in the light of the peaceful moon, and read as follows:
DEAR, DEAR BROTHER,When you read this, I shall be far away. I go because I shall not stay to disgrace you, and because the girl that I brought trouble upon has gone away too, to hide her disgrace and mine; and where she goes, Rand, I ought to follow her, and, please God, I will! I am not as wise or as good as you are, but it seems the best I can do; and God bless you, dear old Randy, boy! Times and times again Ive wanted to tell you all, and reckoned to do so; but whether you was sitting before me in the cabin, or working beside me in the drift, I couldnt get to look upon your honest face, dear brother, and say what things Id been keeping from you so long. Ill stay away until Ive done what I ought to do, and if you can say, Come, Ruth, I will come; but, until you can say it, the mountain is yours, Randy, boy, the mine is yours, the cabin is yours, ALL is yours. Rub out the old chalk-marks, Rand, as I rub them out here in my[A few words here were blurred and indistinct, as if the moon had suddenly become dim-eyed too]. God bless you, brother!
P.S.You know I mean Mornie all the time. Its she Im going to seek; but dont you think so bad of her as you do, I am so much worse than she. I wanted to tell you that all along, but I didnt dare. Shes run away from the Ferry half crazy; said she was going to Sacramento, and I am going there to find her alive or dead. Forgive me, brother! Dont throw this down right away; hold it in your hand a moment, Randy, boy, and try hard to think its my hand in yours. And so good-by, and God bless you, old Randy!
From your loving brother,
RUTH.A deep sense of relief overpowered every other feeling in Rands breast. It was clear that Ruth had not yet discovered the truth of Mornies flight: he was on his way to Sacramento, and before he could return, Mornie could be removed. Once despatched in some other direction, with Ruth once more returned and under his brothers guidance, the separation could be made easy and final. There was evidently no marriage as yet; and now, the fear of an immediate meeting over, there should be none. For Rand had already feared this; had recalled the few infelicitous relations, legal and illegal, which were common to the adjoining camp,the flagrantly miserable life of the husband of a San Francisco anonyma who lived in style at the Ferry, the shameful carousals and more shameful quarrels of the Frenchman and Mexican woman who kept house at the Crossing, the awful spectacle of the three half-bred Indian children who played before the cabin of a fellow miner and townsman. Thank Heaven, the Eagles Nest on Table Mountain should never be pointed at from the valley as another
A heavy hand upon his arm brought him trembling to his feet. He turned, and met the half-anxious, half-contemptuous glance of the doctor.
Im sorry to disturb you, he said dryly; but its about time you or somebody else put in an appearance at that cabin. Luckily for HER, shes one woman in a thousand; has had her wits about her better than some folks I know, and has left me little to do but make her comfortable. But shes gone through too much,fought her little fight too gallantly,is altogether too much of a trump to be played off upon now. So rise up out of that, young man, pick up your scattered faculties, and fetch a womansome sensible creature of her own sexto look after her; for, without wishing to be personal, Im dd if I trust her to the likes of you.
There was no mistaking Dr. Duchesne s voice and manner; and Rand was affected by it, as most people were throughout the valley of the Stanislaus. But he turned upon him his frank and boyish face, and said simply, But I dont know any woman, or where to get one.
The doctor looked at him again. Well, Ill find you some one, he said, softening.
Thank you! said Rand.
The doctor was disappearing. With an effort Rand recalled him. One moment, doctor. He hesitated, and his cheeks were glowing. Youll please say nothing about this down therehe pointed to the valleyfor a time. And youll say to the woman you send
Dr. Duchesne, whose resolute lips were sealed upon the secrets of half Tuolumne County, interrupted him scornfully. I cannot answer for the womanyou must talk to her yourself. As for me, generally I keep my professional visits to myself; but he laid his hand on Rands armif I find out youre putting on any airs to that poor creature, if, on my next visit, her lips or her pulse tell me you havent been acting on the square to her, Ill drop a hint to drunken old Nixon where his daughter is hidden. I reckon she could stand his brutality better than yours. Good-night!
In another moment he was gone. Rand, who had held back his quick tongue, feeling himself in the power of this man, once more alone, sank on a rock, and buried his face in his hands. Recalling himself in a moment, he rose, wiped his hot eyelids, and staggered toward the cabin. It was quite still now. He paused on the topmost step, and listened: there was no sound from the ledge, or the Eagles Nest that clung to it. Half timidly he descended the winding steps, and paused before the door of the cabin. Mornie, he said, in a dry, metallic voice, whose only indication of the presence of sickness was in the lowness of its pitch,Mornie! There was no reply. Mornie, he repeated impatiently, its me,Rand. If you want anything, youre to call me. I am just outside. Still no answer came from the silent cabin. He pushed open the door gently, hesitated, and stepped over the threshold.
A change in the interior of the cabin within the last few hours showed a new presence. The guns, shovels, picks, and blankets had disappeared; the two chairs were drawn against the wall, the table placed by the bedside. The swinging-lantern was shaded towards the bed,the object of Rands attention. On that bed, his brothers bed, lay a helpless woman, pale from the long black hair that matted her damp forehead, and clung to her hollow cheeks. Her face was turned to the wall, so that the softened light fell upon her profile, which to Rand at that moment seemed even noble and strong. But the next moment his eye fell upon the shoulder and arm that lay nearest to him, and the little bundle, swathed in flannel, that it clasped to her breast. His brow grew dark as he gazed. The sleeping woman moved. Perhaps it was an instinctive consciousness of his presence; perhaps it was only the current of cold air from the opened door: but she shuddered slightly, and, still unconscious, drew the child as if away from HIM, and nearer to her breast. The shamed blood rushed to Rands face; and saying half aloud, Im not going to take your precious babe away from you, he turned in half-boyish pettishness away. Nevertheless he came back again shortly to the bedside, and gazed upon them both. She certainly did look altogether more ladylike, and less aggressive, lying there so still: sickness, that cheap refining process of some natures, was not unbecoming to her. But this bundle! A boyish curiosity, stronger than even his strong objection to the whole episode, was steadily impelling him to lift the blanket from it. I suppose shed waken if I did, said Rand; but Id like to know what right the doctor had to wrap it up in my best flannel shirt. This fresh grievance, the fruit of his curiosity, sent him away again to meditate on the ledge. After a few moments he returned again, opened the cupboard at the foot of the bed softly, took thence a piece of chalk, and scrawled in large letters upon the door of the cupboard, If you want anything, sing out: Im just outside.RAND. This done, he took a blanket and bear-skin from the corner, and walked to the door. But here he paused, looked back at the inscription (evidently not satisfied with it), returned, took up the chalk, added a line, but rubbed it out again, repeated this operation a few times until he produced the polite postscript,Hope youll be better soon. Then he retreated to the ledge, spread the bear-skin beside the door, and, rolling himself in a blanket, lit his pipe for his night-long vigil. But Rand, although a martyr, a philosopher, and a moralist, was young. In less than ten minutes the pipe dropped from his lips, and he was asleep.