It was with great archness of manner, that, half an hour later, Mr.
McClosky entered the room with a preparatory cough; and it was with some disappointment that he found Ridgeway standing quietly by the window, and his daughter apparently fallen into a light doze. He was still more concerned, when, after Ridgeway had retired, noticing a pleasant smile playing about her lips, he said softly:--
"You was thinking of some one, Jinny?"
"Yes, father," the gray eyes met his steadily,--"of poor John Ashe!"
Her recovery was swift. Nature, that had seemed to stand jealously aloof from her in her mental anguish, was kind to the physical hurt of her favorite child. The superb physique, which had been her charm and her trial, now stood her in good stead. The healing balsam of the pine, the balm of resinous gums, and the rare medicaments of Sierran alt.i.tudes, touched her as it might have touched the wounded doe; so that in two weeks she was able to walk about. And when, at the end of the month, Ridgeway returned from a flying visit to San Francisco, and jumped from the Wingdam coach at four o"clock in the morning, the Rose of Tuolumne, with the dewy petals of either cheek fresh as when first unfolded to his kiss, confronted him on the road.
With a common instinct, their young feet both climbed the little hill now sacred to their thought. When they reached its summit, they were both, I think, a little disappointed. There is a fragrance in the unfolding of a pa.s.sion, that escapes the perfect flower. Jenny thought the night was not as beautiful; Ridgeway, that the long ride had blunted his perceptions. But they had the frankness to confess it to each other, with the rare delight of such a confession, and the comparison of details which they thought each had forgotten. And with this, and an occasional pitying reference to the blank period when they had not known each other, hand in hand they reached the house.
Mr. McClosky was awaiting them impatiently upon the veranda. When Miss Jenny had slipped up stairs to replace a collar that stood somewhat suspiciously awry, Mr. McClosky drew Ridgeway solemnly aside. He held a large theatre poster in one hand, and an open newspaper in the other.
"I allus said," he remarked slowly, with the air of merely renewing a suspended conversation,--"I allus said that riding three horses to onct wasn"t exactly in her line. It would seem that it ain"t. From remarks in this yer paper, it would appear that she tried it on at Marysville last week, and broke her neck."
A Pa.s.sAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. JOHN OAKHURST.
He always thought it must have been fate. Certainly nothing could have been more inconsistent with his habits than to have been in the Plaza at seven o"clock of that midsummer morning. The sight of his colorless face in Sacramento was rare at that season, and, indeed, at any season, anywhere publicly, before two o"clock in the afternoon. Looking back upon it in after-years in the light of a chanceful life, he determined, with the characteristic philosophy of his profession, that it must have been fate.
Yet it is my duty, as a strict chronicler of facts, to state that Mr.
Oakhurst"s presence there that morning was due to a very simple cause.
At exactly half-past six, the bank being then a winner to the amount of twenty thousand dollars, he had risen from the faro-table, relinquished his seat to an accomplished a.s.sistant, and withdrawn quietly, without attracting a glance from the silent, anxious faces bowed over the table.
But when he entered his luxurious sleeping-room, across the pa.s.sage-way, he was a little shocked at finding the sun streaming through an inadvertently opened window. Something in the rare beauty of the morning, perhaps something in the novelty of the idea, struck him as he was about to close the blinds; and he hesitated. Then, taking his hat from the table, he stepped down a private staircase into the street.
The people who were abroad at that early hour were of a cla.s.s quite unknown to Mr. Oakhurst. There were milkmen and hucksters delivering their wares, small tradespeople opening their shops, housemaids sweeping doorsteps, and occasionally a child. These Mr. Oakhurst regarded with a certain cold curiosity, perhaps quite free from the cynical disfavor with which he generally looked upon the more pretentious of his race whom he was in the habit of meeting. Indeed, I think he was not altogether displeased with the admiring glances which these humble women threw after his handsome face and figure, conspicuous even in a country of fine-looking men. While it is very probable that this wicked vagabond, in the pride of his social isolation, would have been coldly indifferent to the advances of a fine lady, a little girl who ran admiringly by his side in a ragged dress had the power to call a faint flush into his colorless cheek. He dismissed her at last, but not until she had found out--what, sooner or later, her large-hearted and discriminating s.e.x inevitably did--that he was exceedingly free and open-handed with his money, and also--what, perhaps, none other of her s.e.x ever did--that the bold black eyes of this fine gentleman were in reality of a brownish and even tender gray.
There was a small garden before a white cottage in a side-street, that attracted Mr. Oakhurst"s attention. It was filled with roses, heliotrope, and verbena,--flowers familiar enough to him in the expensive and more portable form of bouquets, but, as it seemed to him then, never before so notably lovely. Perhaps it was because the dew was yet fresh upon them; perhaps it was because they were unplucked: but Mr. Oakhurst admired them--not as a possible future tribute to the fascinating and accomplished Miss Ethelinda, then performing at the Varieties, for Mr. Oakhurst"s especial benefit, as she had often a.s.sured him; nor yet as a douceur to the inthralling Miss Montmorrissy, with whom Mr. Oakhurst expected to sup that evening; but simply for himself, and, mayhap, for the flowers" sake. Howbeit he pa.s.sed on, and so out into the open Plaza, where, finding a bench under a cottonwood-tree, he first dusted the seat with his handkerchief, and then sat down.
It was a fine morning. The air was so still and calm, that a sigh from the sycamores seemed like the deep-drawn breath of the just awakening tree, and the faint rustle of its boughs as the outstretching of cramped and reviving limbs. Far away the Sierras stood out against a sky so remote as to be of no positive color,--so remote, that even the sun despaired of ever reaching it, and so expended its strength recklessly on the whole landscape, until it fairly glittered in a white and vivid contrast. With a very rare impulse, Mr. Oakhurst took off his hat, and half reclined on the bench, with his face to the sky. Certain birds who had taken a critical att.i.tude on a spray above him, apparently began an animated discussion regarding his possible malevolent intentions. One or two, emboldened by the silence, hopped on the ground at his feet, until the sound of wheels on the gravel-walk frightened them away.
Looking up, he saw a man coming slowly toward him, wheeling a nondescript vehicle, in which a woman was partly sitting, partly reclining. Without knowing why, Mr. Oakhurst instantly conceived that the carriage was the invention and workmanship of the man, partly from its oddity, partly from the strong, mechanical hand that grasped it, and partly from a certain pride and visible consciousness in the manner in which the man handled it. Then Mr. Oakhurst saw something more: the man"s face was familiar. With that regal faculty of not forgetting a face that had ever given him professional audience, he instantly cla.s.sified it under the following mental formula: "At "Frisco, Polka Saloon. Lost his week"s wages. I reckon--seventy dollars--on red. Never came again." There was, however, no trace of this in the calm eyes and unmoved face that he turned upon the stranger, who, on the contrary, blushed, looked embarra.s.sed, hesitated and then stopped with an involuntary motion that brought the carriage and its fair occupant face to face with Mr. Oakhurst.
I should hardly do justice to the position she will occupy in this veracious chronicle by describing the lady now, if, indeed, I am able to do it at all. Certainly the popular estimate was conflicting. The late Col. Starbottle--to whose large experience of a charming s.e.x I have before been indebted for many valuable suggestions--had, I regret to say, depreciated her fascinations. "A yellow-faced cripple, by dash!
a sick woman, with mahogany eyes; one of your blanked spiritual creatures--with no flesh on her bones." On the other hand, however, she enjoyed later much complimentary disparagement from her own s.e.x. Miss Celestina Howard, second leader in the ballet at the Varieties, had, with great alliterative directness, in after-years, denominated her as an "aquiline asp." Mlle. Brimborion remembered that she had always warned "Mr. Jack" that this woman would "empoison" him. But Mr.
Oakhurst, whose impressions are perhaps the most important, only saw a pale, thin, deep-eyed woman, raised above the level of her companion by the refinement of long suffering and isolation, and a certain shy virginity of manner. There was a suggestion of physical purity in the folds of her fresh-looking robe, and a certain picturesque tastefulness in the details, that, without knowing why, made him think that the robe was her invention and handiwork, even as the carriage she occupied was evidently the work of her companion. Her own hand, a trifle too thin, but well-shaped, subtle-fingered, and gentle-womanly, rested on the side of the carriage, the counterpart of the strong mechanical grasp of her companion"s.
There was some obstruction to the progress of the vehicle; and Mr.
Oakhurst stepped forward to a.s.sist. While the wheel was being lifted over the curbstone, it was necessary that she should hold his arm; and for a moment her thin hand rested there, light and cold as a snowflake, and then, as it seemed to him, like a snow-flake melted away. Then there was a pause, and then conversation, the lady joining occasionally and shyly.
It appeared that they were man and wife; that for the past two years she had been a great invalid, and had lost the use of her lower limbs from rheumatism; that until lately she had been confined to her bed, until her husband--who was a master-carpenter--had bethought himself to make her this carriage. He took her out regularly for an airing before going to work, because it was his only time, and--they attracted less attention. They had tried many doctors, but without avail. They had been advised to go to the Sulphur Springs; but it was expensive. Mr. Decker, the husband, had once saved eighty dollars for that purpose, but while in San Francisco had his pocket picked--Mr Decker was so senseless!
(The intelligent reader need not be told that it is the lady who is speaking.) They had never been able to make up the sum again, and they had given up the idea. It was a dreadful thing to have one"s pocket picked. Did he not think so?
Her husband"s face was crimson; but Mr. Oakhurst"s countenance was quite calm and unmoved, as he gravely agreed with her, and walked by her side until they pa.s.sed the little garden that he had admired. Here Mr. Oakhurst commanded a halt, and, going to the door, astounded the proprietor by a preposterously extravagant offer for a choice of the flowers. Presently he returned to the carriage with his arms full of roses, heliotrope, and verbena, and cast them in the lap of the invalid.
While she was bending over them with childish delight, Mr. Oakhurst took the opportunity of drawing her husband aside.
"Perhaps," he said in a low voice, and a manner quite free from any personal annoyance,--"perhaps it"s just as well that you lied to her as you did. You can say now that the pick-pocket was arrested the other day, and you got your money back." Mr. Oakhurst quietly slipped four twenty-dollar gold-pieces into the broad hand of the bewildered Mr.
Decker. "Say that--or any thing you like--but the truth. Promise me you won"t say that."
The man promised. Mr. Oakhurst quietly returned to the front of the little carriage. The sick woman was still eagerly occupied with the flowers, and, as she raised her eyes to his, her faded cheek seemed to have caught some color from the roses, and her eyes some of their dewy freshness. But at that instant Mr. Oakhurst lifted his hat, and before she could thank him was gone.
I grieve to say that Mr. Decker shamelessly broke his promise. That night, in the very goodness of his heart and uxorious self-abnegation, he, like all devoted husbands, not only offered himself, but his friend and benefactor, as a sacrifice on the family-altar. It is only fair, however, to add that he spoke with great fervor of the generosity of Mr.
Oakhurst, and dwelt with an enthusiasm quite common with his cla.s.s on the mysterious fame and prodigal vices of the gambler.
"And now, Elsie dear, say that you"ll forgive me," said Mr. Decker, dropping on one knee beside his wife"s couch. "I did it for the best. It was for you, dearey, that I put that money on them cards that night in "Frisco. I thought to win a heap--enough to take you away, and enough left to get you a new dress."
Mrs. Decker smiled, and pressed her husband"s hand. "I do forgive you, Joe dear," she said, still smiling, with eyes abstractedly fixed on the ceiling; "and you ought to be whipped for deceiving me so, you bad boy!
and making me make such a speech. There, say no more about it. If you"ll be very good hereafter, and will just now hand me that cl.u.s.ter of roses, I"ll forgive you." She took the branch in her angers, lifted the roses to her face, and presently said, behind their leaves,--
"Joe!"
"What is it, lovey?"
"Do you think that this Mr.--what do you call him?--Jack Oakhurst would have given that money back to you, if I hadn"t made that speech?"
"Yes."
"If he hadn"t seen me at all?"
Mr. Decker looked up. His wife had managed in some way to cover up her whole face with the roses, except her eyes, which were dangerously bright.
"No! It was you, Elsie--it was all along of seeing you that made him do it."
"A poor sick woman like me?"
"A sweet, little, lovely, pooty Elsie--Joe"s own little wifey! how could he help it?"
Mrs. Decker fondly cast one arm around her husband"s neck, still keeping the roses to her face with the other. From behind them she began to murmur gently and idiotically, "Dear, ole square Joey. Elsie"s oney booful big bear." But, really, I do not see that my duty as a chronicler of facts compels me to continue this little lady"s speech any further; and, out of respect to the unmarried reader, I stop.
Nevertheless, the next morning Mrs. Decker betrayed some slight and apparently uncalled for irritability on reaching the Plaza, and presently desired her husband to wheel her back home. Moreover, she was very much astonished at meeting Mr. Oakhurst just as they were returning, and even doubted if it were he, and questioned her husband as to his ident.i.ty with the stranger of yesterday as he approached. Her manner to Mr. Oakhurst, also, was quite in contrast with her husband"s frank welcome. Mr. Oakhurst instantly detected it. "Her husband has told her all, and she dislikes me," he said to himself, with that fatal appreciation of the half-truths of a woman"s motives that causes the wisest masculine critic to stumble. He lingered only long enough to take the business address of the husband, and then lifting his hat gravely, without looking at the lady, went his way. It struck the honest master-carpenter as one of the charming anomalies of his wife"s character, that, although the meeting was evidently very much constrained and unpleasant, instantly afterward his wife"s spirits began to rise. "You was hard on him, a leetle hard; wasn"t you, Elsie?"
said Mr. Decker deprecatingly. "I"m afraid he may think I"ve broke my promise."--"Ah, indeed!" said the lady indifferently. Mr. Decker instantly stepped round to the front of the vehicle. "You look like an A 1 first-cla.s.s lady riding down Broadway in her own carriage, Elsie,"
said he. "I never seed you lookin" so peart and sa.s.sy before."
A few days later, the proprietor of the San Isabel Sulphur Springs received the following note in Mr. Oakhurst"s well-known, dainty hand:--
"DEAR STEVE,--I"ve been thinking over your proposition to buy Nichols"s quarter-interest, and have concluded to go in. But I don"t see how the thing will pay until you have more accommodation down there, and for the best cla.s.s,--I mean MY customers. What we want is an extension to the main building, and two or three cottages put up. I send down a builder to take hold of the job at once. He takes his sick wife with him; and you are to look after them as you would for one of us.
"I may run down there myself after the races, just to look after things; but I sha"n"t set up any game this season.
"Yours always,
"JOHN OAKHURST."
It was only the last sentence of this letter that provoked criticism.
"I can understand," said Mr. Hamlin, a professional brother, to whom Mr.