And they shook hands over a new compact.
COLONEL STARBOTTLE FOR THE PLAINTIFF
By Bret Harte (1839-1902)
[From _Harper"s Magazine_, March, 1901. Republished in the volume, _Openings in the Old Trail_ (1902), by Bret Harte; copyright, 1902, by Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers of Bret Harte"s complete works; reprinted by their permission.]
It had been a day of triumph for Colonel Starbottle. First, for his personality, as it would have been difficult to separate the Colonel"s achievements from his individuality; second, for his oratorical abilities as a sympathetic pleader; and third, for his functions as the leading counsel for the Eureka Ditch Company _versus_ the State of California. On his strictly legal performances in this issue I prefer not to speak; there were those who denied them, although the jury had accepted them in the face of the ruling of the half-amused, half-cynical Judge himself. For an hour they had laughed with the Colonel, wept with him, been stirred to personal indignation or patriotic exaltation by his pa.s.sionate and lofty periods--what else could they do than give him their verdict? If it was alleged by some that the American eagle, Thomas Jefferson, and the Resolutions of "98 had nothing whatever to do with the contest of a ditch company over a doubtfully worded legislative doc.u.ment; that wholesale abuse of the State Attorney and his political motives had not the slightest connection with the legal question raised--it was, nevertheless, generally accepted that the losing party would have been only too glad to have the Colonel on their side. And Colonel Starbottle knew this, as, perspiring, florid, and panting, he reb.u.t.toned the lower b.u.t.tons of his blue frock-coat, which had become loosed in an oratorical spasm, and readjusted his old-fashioned, spotless shirt frill above it as he strutted from the court-room amidst the hand-shakings and acclamations of his friends.
And here an unprecedented thing occurred. The Colonel absolutely declined spirituous refreshment at the neighboring Palmetto Saloon, and declared his intention of proceeding directly to his office in the adjoining square. Nevertheless the Colonel quitted the building alone, and apparently unarmed except for his faithful gold-headed stick, which hung as usual from his forearm. The crowd gazed after him with undisguised admiration of this new evidence of his pluck. It was remembered also that a mysterious note had been handed to him at the conclusion of his speech--evidently a challenge from the State Attorney. It was quite plain that the Colonel--a practised duellist--was hastening home to answer it.
But herein they were wrong. The note was in a female hand, and simply requested the Colonel to accord an interview with the writer at the Colonel"s office as soon as he left the court. But it was an engagement that the Colonel--as devoted to the fair s.e.x as he was to the "code"--was no less prompt in accepting. He flicked away the dust from his spotless white trousers and varnished boots with his handkerchief, and settled his black cravat under his Byron collar as he neared his office. He was surprised, however, on opening the door of his private office to find his visitor already there; he was still more startled to find her somewhat past middle age and plainly attired. But the Colonel was brought up in a school of Southern politeness, already antique in the republic, and his bow of courtesy belonged to the epoch of his shirt frill and strapped trousers. No one could have detected his disappointment in his manner, albeit his sentences were short and incomplete. But the Colonel"s colloquial speech was apt to be fragmentary incoherencies of his larger oratorical utterances.
"A thousand pardons--for--er--having kept a lady waiting--er!
But--er--congratulations of friends--and--er--courtesy due to them--er--interfered with--though perhaps only heightened--by procrastination--pleasure of--ha!" And the Colonel completed his sentence with a gallant wave of his fat but white and well-kept hand.
"Yes! I came to see you along o" that speech of yours. I was in court.
When I heard you gettin" it off on that jury, I says to myself that"s the kind o" lawyer _I_ want. A man that"s flowery and convincin"! Just the man to take up our case."
"Ah! It"s a matter of business, I see," said the Colonel, inwardly relieved, but externally careless. "And--er--may I ask the nature of the case?"
"Well! it"s a breach-o"-promise suit," said the visitor, calmly.
If the Colonel had been surprised before, he was now really startled, and with an added horror that required all his politeness to conceal.
Breach-of-promise cases were his peculiar aversion. He had always held them to be a kind of litigation which could have been obviated by the prompt killing of the masculine offender--in which case he would have gladly defended the killer. But a suit for damages!--_damages!_--with the reading of love-letters before a hilarious jury and court, was against all his instincts. His chivalry was outraged; his sense of humor was small--and in the course of his career he had lost one or two important cases through an unexpected development of this quality in a jury.
The woman had evidently noticed his hesitation, but mistook its cause.
"It ain"t me--but my darter."
The Colonel recovered his politeness. "Ah! I am relieved, my dear madam! I could hardly conceive a man ignorant enough to--er--er--throw away such evident good fortune--or base enough to deceive the trustfulness of womanhood--matured and experienced only in the chivalry of our s.e.x, ha!"
The woman smiled grimly. "Yes!--it"s my darter, Zaidee Hooker--so ye might spare some of them pretty speeches for _her_--before the jury."
The Colonel winced slightly before this doubtful prospect, but smiled. "Ha! Yes!--certainly--the jury. But--er--my dear lady, need we go as far as that? Cannot this affair be settled--er--out of court? Could not this--er--individual--be admonished--told that he must give satisfaction--personal satisfaction--for his dastardly conduct--to --er--near relative--or even valued personal friend?
The--er--arrangements necessary for that purpose I myself would undertake."
He was quite sincere; indeed, his small black eyes shone with that fire which a pretty woman or an "affair of honor" could alone kindle.
The visitor stared vacantly at him, and said, slowly:
"And what good is that goin" to do _us_?"
"Compel him to--er--perform his promise," said the Colonel, leaning back in his chair.
"Ketch him doin" it!" said the woman, scornfully. "No--that ain"t wot we"re after. We must make him _pay_! Damages--and nothin" short o"
_that_."
The Colonel bit his lip. "I suppose," he said, gloomily, "you have doc.u.mentary evidence--written promises and protestations--er--er-- love-letters, in fact?"
"No--nary a letter! Ye see, that"s jest it--and that"s where _you_ come in. You"ve got to convince that jury yourself. You"ve got to show what it is--tell the whole story your own way. Lord! to a man like you that"s nothin"."
Startling as this admission might have been to any other lawyer, Starbottle was absolutely relieved by it. The absence of any mirth-provoking correspondence, and the appeal solely to his own powers of persuasion, actually struck his fancy. He lightly put aside the compliment with a wave of his white hand.
"Of course," said the Colonel, confidently, "there is strongly presumptive and corroborative evidence? Perhaps you can give me--er--a brief outline of the affair?"
"Zaidee kin do that straight enough, I reckon," said the woman; "what I want to know first is, kin you take the case?"
The Colonel did not hesitate; his curiosity was piqued. "I certainly can. I have no doubt your daughter will put me in possession of sufficient facts and details--to const.i.tute what we call--er--a brief."
"She kin be brief enough--or long enough--for the matter of that,"
said the woman, rising. The Colonel accepted this implied witticism with a smile.
"And when may I have the pleasure of seeing her?" he asked, politely.
"Well, I reckon as soon as I can trot out and call her. She"s just outside, meanderin" in the road--kinder shy, ye know, at first."
She walked to the door. The astounded Colonel nevertheless gallantly accompanied her as she stepped out into the street and called, shrilly, "You Zaidee!"
A young girl here apparently detached herself from a tree and the ostentatious perusal of an old election poster, and sauntered down towards the office door. Like her mother, she was plainly dressed; unlike her, she had a pale, rather refined face, with a demure mouth and downcast eyes. This was all the Colonel saw as he bowed profoundly and led the way into his office, for she accepted his salutations without lifting her head. He helped her gallantly to a chair, on which she seated herself sideways, somewhat ceremoniously, with her eyes following the point of her parasol as she traced a pattern on the carpet. A second chair offered to the mother that lady, however, declined. "I reckon to leave you and Zaidee together to talk it out,"
she said; turning to her daughter, she added, "Jest you tell him all, Zaidee," and before the Colonel could rise again, disappeared from the room. In spite of his professional experience, Starbottle was for a moment embarra.s.sed. The young girl, however, broke the silence without looking up.
"Adoniram K. Hotchkiss," she began, in a monotonous voice, as if it were a recitation addressed to the public, "first began to take notice of me a year ago. Arter that--off and on----"
"One moment," interrupted the astounded Colonel; "do you mean Hotchkiss the President of the Ditch Company?" He had recognized the name of a prominent citizen--a rigid ascetic, taciturn, middle-aged man--a deacon--and more than that, the head of the company he had just defended. It seemed inconceivable.
"That"s him," she continued, with eyes still fixed on the parasol and without changing her monotonous tone--"off and on ever since. Most of the time at the Free-Will Baptist church--at morning service, prayer-meetings, and such. And at home--outside--er--in the road."
"Is it this gentleman--Mr. Adoniram K. Hotchkiss--who--er--promised marriage?" stammered the Colonel.
"Yes."
The Colonel shifted uneasily in his chair. "Most extraordinary!
for--you see--my dear young lady--this becomes--a--er--most delicate affair."
"That"s what maw said," returned the young woman, simply, yet with the faintest smile playing around her demure lips and downcast cheek.
"I mean," said the Colonel, with a pained yet courteous smile, "that this--er--gentleman--is in fact--er--one of my clients."
"That"s what maw said, too, and of course your knowing him will make it all the easier for you," said the young woman.
A slight flush crossed the Colonel"s cheek as he returned quickly and a little stiffly, "On the contrary--er--it may make it impossible for me to--er--act in this matter."
The girl lifted her eyes. The Colonel held his breath as the long lashes were raised to his level. Even to an ordinary observer that sudden revelation of her eyes seemed to transform her face with subtle witchery. They were large, brown, and soft, yet filled with an extraordinary penetration and prescience. They were the eyes of an experienced woman of thirty fixed in the face of a child. What else the Colonel saw there Heaven only knows! He felt his inmost secrets plucked from him--his whole soul laid bare--his vanity, belligerency, gallantry--even his medieval chivalry, penetrated, and yet illuminated, in that single glance. And when the eyelids fell again, he felt that a greater part of himself had been swallowed up in them.
"I beg your pardon," he said, hurriedly. "I mean--this matter may be arranged--er--amicably. My interest with--and as you wisely say--my--er--knowledge of my client--er--Mr. Hotchkiss--may affect--a compromise."
"And _damages_," said the young girl, readdressing her parasol, as if she had never looked up.