a first family of tasajara-第40章

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enough　for　me　to　know　that　you　were　good　enough　to　read　it。　　But

will　you　do　one　thing　more　for　me？　　Read　it　again！　　If　you　find

anything　in　it　the　second　time　to　change　your　viewsif　you　find〃



〃I　will　let　you　know；〃　she　said　quickly。　　〃I　will　write　to　you　as　I

intended。〃



〃No；　I　didn't　mean　that。　　I　meant　that　if　you　found　the　woman　less

inconceivable　and　more　human；　don't　write　to　me；　but　put　your　red

lamp　in　your　window　instead　of　the　blue　one。　　I　will　watch　for　it

and　see　it。〃



〃I　think　I　will　be　able　to　explain　myself　much　better　with　simple

pen　and　ink；〃　she　said　dryly；　〃　and　it　will　be　much　more　useful　to

you。〃



He　lifted　his　hat　gravely；　shoved　off　the　boat；　leaped　into　it；　and

before　she　could　hold　out　her　hand　was　twenty　feet　away。　　She

turned　and　ran　quickly　up　the　rocks。　　When　she　reached　the　hotel；

she　could　see　the　boat　already　half　across　the　bay。



Entering　her　sitting…room　she　found　that　her　brother；　tired　of

waiting　for　her；　had　driven　out。　　Taking　the　hidden　manuscript　from

her　cloak　she　tossed　it　with　a　slight　gesture　of　impatience　on　the

table。　　Then　she　summoned　the　landlord。



〃Is　there　a　town　across　the　bay？〃



〃No！　the　whole　mountain…side　belongs　to　Don　Diego　Fletcher。　　He

lives　away　back　in　the　coast　range　at　Los　Gatos；　but　he　has　a

cottage　and　mill　on　the　beach。〃



〃Don　Diego　FletcherFletcher！　　Is　he　a　Spaniard　then？〃



〃Half　and　half；　I　reckon；　he's　from　the　lower　country；　I　believe。〃



〃Is　he　here　often？〃



〃Not　much；　he　has　mills　at　Los　Gatos；　wheat　ranches　at　Santa　Clara；

and　owns　a　newspaper　in　'Frisco！　　But　he's　here　now。　　There　were

lights　in　his　house　last　night；　and　his　cutter　lies　off　the　point。〃



〃Could　you　get　a　small　package　and　note　to　him？〃



〃Certainly；　it　is　only　a　row　across　the　bay。〃



〃Thank　you。〃



Without　removing　her　hat　and　cloak　she　sat　down　at　the　table　and

began　a　letter　to　Don　Diego　Fletcher。　　She　begged　to　inclose　to　him

a　manuscript　which　she　was　satisfied；　for　the　interests　of　its

author；　was　better　in　his　hands　than　hers。　　It　had　been　given　to

her　by　the　author；　Mr。　J。　M。　Harcourt；　whom　she　understood　was

engaged　on　Mr。　Fletcher's　paper；　the　〃Clarion。〃　　In　fact；　it　had

been　written　at　HER　suggestion；　and　from　an　incident　in　real　life

of　which　she　was　cognizant。　　She　was　sorry　to　say　that　on　account

of　some　very　foolish　criticism　of　her　own　as　to　the　FACTS；　the

talented　young　author　had　become　so　dissatisfied　with　it　as　to　make

it　possible　that；　if　left　to　himself；　this　very　charming　and

beautifully　written　story　would　remain　unpublished。　　As　an　admirer

of　Mr。　Harcourt's　genius；　and　a　friend　of　his　family；　she　felt　that

such　an　event　would　be　deplorable；　and　she　therefore　begged　to

leave　it　to　Mr。　Fletcher's　delicacy　and　tact　to　arrange　with　the

author　for　its　publication。　　She　knew　that　Mr。　Fletcher　had　only　to

read　it　to　be　convinced　of　its　remarkable　literary　merit；　and　she

again　would　impress　upon　him　the　fact　that　her　playful　and

thoughtless　criticismwhich　was　personal　and　confidentialwas

only　based　upon　the　circumstances　that　the　author　had　really　made　a

more　beautiful　and　touching　story　than　the　poor　facts　which　she　had

furnished　seemed　to　warrant。　　She　had　only　just　learned　the

fortunate　circumstance　that　Mr。　Fletcher　was　in　the　neighborhood　of

the　hotel　where　she　was　staying　with　her　brother。



With　the　same　practical；　business…like　directness；　but　perhaps　a

certain　unbusiness…like　haste　superadded；　she　rolled　up　the

manuscript　and　dispatched　it　with　the　letter。



This　done；　however；　a　slight　reaction　set　in；　and　having　taken　off

her　hat　and　shawl；　she　dropped　listlessly　on　a　chair　by　the　window；

but　as　suddenly　rose　and　took　a　seat　in　the　darker　part　of　the

room。　　She　felt　that　she　had　done　right；　that　highest　but　most

depressing　of　human　convictions！　　It　was　entirely　for　his　good。

There　was　no　reason　why　his　best　interests　should　suffer　for　his

folly。　　If　anybody　was　to　suffer　it　was　she。　　But　what　nonsense　was

she　thinking！　　She　would　write　to　him　later　when　she　was　a　little

cooler；as　she　had　said。　　But　then　he　had　distinctly　told　her；　and

very　rudely　too；　that　he　didn't　want　her　to　write。　　Wanted　her　to

make　SIGNALS　to　him；the　idiot！　and　probably　was　even　now　watching

her　with　a　telescope。　　It　was　really　too　preposterous！



The　result　was　that　her　brother　found　her　on　his　return　in　a

somewhat　uncertain　mood；　and；　as　a　counselor；　variable　and

conflicting　in　judgment。　　If　this　Clementina；　who　seemed　to　have　the

family　qualities　of　obstinacy　and　audacity；　really　cared　for　him；

she　certainly　wouldn't　let　delicacy　stand　in　the　way　of　letting　him

know　itand　he　was　therefore　safe　to　wait　a　little。　　A　few　moments

later；　she　languidly　declared　that　she　was　afraid　that　she　was　no

counselor　in　such　matters；　really　she　was　getting　too　old　to　take

any　interest　in　that　sort　of　thing；　and　she　never　had　been　a

matchmaker！　　By　the　way　now；　wasn't　it　odd　that　this　neighbor；　that

rich　capitalist　across　the　bay；　should　be　called　Fletcher；　and

〃James　Fletcher〃　too；　for　Diego　meant　〃James〃　in　Spanish。　　Exactly

the　same　name　as　poor　〃Cousin　Jim〃　who　disappeared。　　Did　he　remember

her　old　playmate　Jim？　　But　her　brother　thought　something　else　was　a

deuced　sight　more　odd；　namely；　that　this　same　Don　Diego　Fletcher　was

said　to　be　very　sweet　on　Clementina　now；　and　was　always　in　her

company　at　the　Ramirez。　　And　that；　with　this　〃Clarion〃　apology　on

the　top　of　it；　looked　infernally　queer。



Mrs。　Ashwood　felt　a　sudden　consternation。　　Here　had　sheJack's

sisterjust　been　taking　Jack's　probable　rival　into　confidential

correspondence！　　She　turned　upon　Jack　sharply：



〃Why　didn't　you　say　that　before？〃



〃I　did　tell　you；〃　he　said　gloomily；　〃but　you　didn't　listen。　　But

what　difference　does　it　make　to　you　now？〃



〃None　whatever；〃　said　Mrs。　Ashwood　calmly　as　she　walked　out　of　the

room。



Nevertheless　the　afternoon　passed　wearily；　and　her　usual　ride　into

the　upland　canyon　did　not　reanimate　her。　　For　reasons　known　best　to

herself　she　did　not　take　her　after…dinner　stroll　along　the　shore　to

watch　the　outlying　fog。　　At　a　comparatively　early　hour；　while　there

was　still　a　roseate　glow　in　the　western　sky；　she　appeared　with　grim

deliberation；　and　the　blue　lamp…shade　in　her　hand；　and　placed　it

over　the　lamp　which　she　lit　and　stood　on　her　table　beside　the

window。　　This　done　she　sat　down　and　began　to　write　with　bright…eyed

but　vicious　complacency。



〃But　you　don't　want　that　light　AND　the　window；　Constance；〃　said

Jack　wonderingly。



Mrs。　Ashwood　could　not　stand　the　dreadful　twilight。



〃But　take　away　your　lamp　and　you'll　have　light　enough　from　the

sunset；〃　responded　Jack。



That　was　just　what　she　didn't　want！　　The　light　from　the　window　was

that　horrid　vulgar　red　glow　which　she　hated。　　It　might　be　very

romantic　and　suit　lovers　like　Jack；　but　as　SHE　had　some　work　to　do；

she　wanted　the　blue　shade　of　the　lamp　to　correct　that　dreadful

glare。





CHAPTER　XII。





John　Milton　had　rowed　back　without　lifting　his　eyes　to　Mrs。

Ashwood's　receding　figure。　　He　believed　that　he　was　right　in

declining　her　invitation；　although　he　had　a　miserable　feeling　that

it　entailed　seeing　her　for　the　last　time。　　With　all　that　he

believed　was　his　previous　experience　of　the　affections；　he　was

still　so　untutored　as　to　be　confused　as　to　his　reasons　for

declining；　or　his　right　to　have　been　shocked　and　disappointed　at

her　manner。　　It　seemed　to　him　sufficiently　plain　that　he　had

offended　the　most　perfect　woman　he　had　ever　known　without　knowing

more。　　The　feeling　he　had　for　her　was　none　the　less　powerful

because；　in　his　great　simplicity；　it　was　vague　and　unformulated。

And　it　was　a　part　of　this　strange　simplicity　that　in　his　miserable

loneliness　his　thoughts　turned　unconsciously　to　his　dead　wife　for

sympathy　and　consolation。　　Loo　would　have　understood　him！



Mr。　Fletcher；　who　had　received　him　on　his