Then a week passed. He wrote again, and still no reply. Then a vague feeling of jealousy took possession of him as he remembered her warning hint of the attentions to which she was subjected, and he became singularly appreciative of Snapshot Harrys proficiency as a marksman. Then, cruelest of all, for your impassioned lover is no lover at all if not cruel in his imaginings, he remembered how she had evaded her uncles espionage with HIM; could she not equally with ANOTHER? Perhaps that was why she had hurried him away,why she had prevented his returning to her uncle. Following this came another week of disappointment and equally miserable cynical philosophy, in which he persuaded himself he was perfectly satisfied with his material advancement, that it was the only outcome of his adventure to be recognized; and he was more miserable than ever.
A month had passed, when one morning he received a small package by post. The address was in a handwriting unknown to him, but opening the parcel he was surprised to find only a handkerchief neatly folded. Examining it closely, he found it was his own,the one he had given her, the rent made by her uncles bullet so ingeniously and delicately mended as to almost simulate embroidery. The joy that suddenly filled him at this proof of her remembrance showed him too plainly how hollow had been his cynicism and how lasting his hope! Turning over the wrapper eagerly, he discovered what he had at first thought was some business card. It was, indeed, printed and not engraved, in some common newspaper type, and bore the address, Hiram Tarbox, Land and Timber Agent, 1101 California Street. He again examined the parcel; there was nothing else,not a line from HER! But it was a clue at last, and she had not forgotten him! He seized his hat, and ten minutes later was breasting the steep sand hill into which California Street in those days plunged, and again emerged at its crest, with a few struggling houses.
But when he reached the summit he could see that the outline of the street was still plainly marked along the distance by cottages and new suburban villa-like blocks of houses. No. 1101 was in one of these blocks, a small tenement enough, but a palace compared to Mr. Tarboxs Sierran cabin. He impetuously rang the bell, and without waiting to be announced dashed into the little drawing-room and Mr. Tarboxs presence. That had changed too; Mr. Tarbox was arrayed in a suit of clothes as new, as cheaply decorative, as fresh and, apparently, as damp as his own drawing room.
Did you get my letter? Did you give her the one I inclosed? Why didnt you answer? burst out Brice, after his first breathless greeting.
Mr. Tarboxs face here changed so suddenly into his old dejected doggedness that Brice could have imagined himself back in the Sierran cabin. The man straightened and bowed himself at Brices questions, and then replied with bold, deliberate emphasis:
Yes, I DID get your letter. I DIDNT give no letter o yours to her. And I didnt answer your letter BEFORE, for I didnt propose to answer it AT ALL.
Why? demanded Brice indignantly.
I didnt give her your letter because I didnt kalkilate to be any go-between twixt you and Snapshot Harrys niece. Look yar, Mr. Brice. Sense I read that ar paragraph in that paper you gave me, I allowed to myself that it wasnt the square thing for me to have any more doins with him, and I quit it. I jest chucked your letter in the fire. I didnt answer you because I reckoned Id no call to correspond with ye, and when I showed ye that trail over to Harrys camp, it was ended. Ive got a house and business to look arter, and it dont jibe with keepin company with road agents. Thats what I got outer that paper you gave me, Mr. Brice.
Rage and disgust filled Brice at the mans utter selfishness and shameless desertion of his kindred, none the less powerfully that he remembered the part he himself had played in concocting the paragraph. Do you mean to say, he demanded passionately, that for the sake of that foolish paragraph you gave up your own kindred? That you truckled to the mean prejudices of your neighbors and kept that poor, defenseless girl from the only honest roof she could find refuge under? That you dared to destroy my letter to her, and made her believe I was as selfish and ungrateful as yourself?
Young feller, said Mr. Tarbox still more deliberately, yet with a certain dignity that Brice had never noticed before, whats between you and Flo, and what rights she has fer thinkin ye ez selfish and ez ongrateful ez meef she does, I dunno!but when ye talk o me givin up my kindred, and sling such hogwash ez ongrateful and selfish round this yer sittin-room, mebbe it mout occur to ye that Harry Dimwood might hev HIS opinion o what was ongrateful and selfish ef Id played in between his niece and a young man o the express company, his natral enemy. Its one thing to hev helped ye to see her in her uncles own camp, but another to help ye by makin a clandecent post-offis o my cabin. Ef, instead o writin, youd hev posted yourself by comin to me, you mout hev found out that when I broke with Harry I offered to take Flo with me for good and allef hed keep away from us. And thats the kind o honest roof that that thar poor defenseless girl got under when her crippled mother died three weeks ago, and left Harry free. It was by trucklin to them mean prejudices, and readin that thar foolish paragraph, that I settled this thing then and thar!
Brices revulsion of sentiment was so complete, and the gratitude that beamed in his eyes was so sincere, that Mr. Tarbox hardly needed the profuse apologies which broke from him. Forgive me! he continued to stammer, I have wronged you, wronged HEReverybody. But as you know, Mr. Tarbox, how I have felt over this, how deeplyhow passionately
It DOES make a man loony sometimes, said Mr. Tarbox, relaxing into demure dryness again, so I reckon you DID! Mebbe she reckoned so, too, for she asked me to give you the handkercher I sent ye. It looked as if shed bin doin some fancy work on it.
Brice glanced quickly at Mr. Tarboxs face. It was stolid and imperturbable. She had evidently kept the secret of what passed in the hollow to herself. For the first time he looked around the room curiously. I didnt know you were a land agent before, he said.
No more I was! All that kem out o that paragraph, Mr. Brice. That man Heckshill, who was so mighty perlite that night, wrote to me afterwards that he didnt know my name till hed seed that paragraph, and he wanted to know ef, ez a well-known citizen, I could recommend him some timber lands. I recommended him half o my own quarter section, and he took it. Hes puttin up a mill thar, and thats another reason why we want peace and quietness up thar. Im tryin (betwixt and between us, Mr. Brice) to get Harry to clar out and sell his rights in the valley and the water power on the Fork to Heckshill and me. Im opening a business here.