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and　threatening　the　unseasonable　frivolity　of　the　stucco

ornamentation　of　cornice　and　balcony。　　Mrs。　Tucker　had　been　called

from　the　contemplation　of　the　dreary　prospect　without　by　the

arrival　of　a　visitor。　　On　entering　the　drawing…room　she　found　him

engaged　in　a　half…admiring；　half…resentful　examination　of　its　new

furniture　and　hangings。　　Mrs。　Tucker　at　once　recognized　Mr。　Calhoun

Weaver；　a　former　Blue　Grass　neighbor；　with　swift　feminine　intuition

she　also　felt　that　his　slight　antagonism　was　likely　to　be

transferred　from　her　furniture　to　herself。　　Waiving　it　with　the

lazy　amiability　of　Southern　indifference；　she　welcomed　him　by　the

familiarity　of　a　Christian　name。



〃I　reckoned　that　mebbee　you　opined　old　Blue　Grass　friends　wouldn't

naturally　hitch　on　to　them　fancy　doins；〃　he　said；　glancing　around

the　apartment　to　avoid　her　clear　eyes；　as　if　resolutely　setting

himself　against　the　old　charm　of　her　manner　as　he　had　against　the

more　recent　glory　of　her　surroundings；　〃but　I　thought　I'd　just　drop

in　for　the　sake　of　old　times。〃



〃Why　shouldn't　you；　Cal？〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker　with　a　frank　smile。



〃Especially　as　I'm　going　up　to　Sacramento　to…night　with　some

influential　friends；〃　he　continued；　with　an　ostentation　calculated

to　resist　the　assumption　of　her　charms　and　her　furniture。　　〃Senator

Dyce　of　Kentucky；　and　his　cousin　Judge　Briggs；　perhaps　you　know

'em；　or　may　be　SpencerI　mean　Mr。　Tuckerdoes。〃



〃I　reckon；〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker　smiling；　〃but　tell　me　something　about

the　boys　and　girls　at　Vineville；　and　about　yourself。　　YOU'RE

looking　well；　and　right　smart　too。〃　　She　paused　to　give　due

emphasis　to　this　latter　recognition　of　a　huge　gold　chain　with　which

her　visitor　was　somewhat　ostentatiously　trifling。



〃I　didn't　know　as　you　cared　to　hear　anything　about　Blue　Grass；〃　he

returned；　a　little　abashed。　　〃I've　been　away　from　there　some　time

myself；〃　he　added；　his　uneasy　vanity　taking　fresh　alarm　at　the

faint　suspicion　of　patronage　on　the　part　of　his　hostess。　　〃They're

doin'　well；　though；　perhaps　as　well　as　some　others。〃



〃And　you're　not　married　yet；〃　continued　Mrs。　Tucker；　oblivious　of

the　innuendo。　　〃Ah；　Cal；〃　she　added　archly；　〃I　am　afraid　you　are　as

fickle　as　ever。　　What　poor　girl　in　Vineville　have　you　left　pining？〃



The　simple　face　of　the　man　before　her　flushed　with　foolish

gratification　at　this　old…fashioned；　ambiguous　flattery。　　〃Now　look

yer；　Belle；〃　he　said；　chuckling；　〃if　you're　talking　of　old　times

and　you　think　I　bear　malice　agin　Spencer；　why〃



But　Mrs。　Tucker　interrupted　what　might　have　been　an　inopportune

sentimental　retrospect　with　a　finger　of　arch　but　languid　warning。

〃That　will　do！　　I'm　dying　to　know　all　about　it；　and　you　must　stay

to　dinner　and　tell　me。　　It's　right　mean　you　can't　see　Spencer　too；

but　he　isn't　back　from　Sacramento　yet。〃



Grateful　as　a　tete…a…tete　with　his　old　neighbor　in　her　more

prosperous　surroundings　would　have　been；　if　only　for　the　sake　of

later　gossiping　about　it；　he　felt　it　would　be　inconsistent　with　his

pride　and　his　assumption　of　present　business。　　More　than　that；　he

was　uneasily　conscious　that　in　Mrs。　Tucker's　simple　and　unaffected

manner　there　was　a　greater　superiority　than　he　had　ever　noticed

during　their　previous　acquaintance。　　He　would　have　felt　kinder　to

her　had　she　shown　any　〃airs　and　graces；〃　which　he　could　have

commented　upon　and　forgiven。　　He　stammered　some　vague　excuse　of

preoccupation；　yet　lingered　in　the　hope　of　saying　something　which；

if　not　aggressively　unpleasant；　might　at　least　transfer　to　her

indolent　serenity　some　of　his　own　irritation。　　〃I　reckon；〃　he　said；

as　he　moved　hesitatingly　towards　the　door；　〃that　Spencer　has　made

himself　easy　and　secure　in　them　business　risks　he's　taking。　　That

'ere　Alameda　ditch　affair　they're　talking　so　much　about　is　a　mighty

big　thing；　rather　TOO　big　if　it　ever　got　to　falling　back　on　him。

But　I　suppose　he's　accustomed　to　take　risks？〃



〃Of　course　he　is；〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker　gayly。　　〃He　married　ME。〃



The　visitor　smiled　feebly；　but　was　not　equal　to　the　opportunity

offered　for　gallant　repudiation。　　〃But　suppose　you　ain't　accustomed

to　risks？〃



〃Why　not？　　I　married　HIM；〃　said　Mrs。　Tucker。



Mr。　Calhoun　Weaver　was　human；　and　succumbed　to　this　last　charming

audacity。　　He　broke　into　a　noisy　but　genuine　laugh；　shook　Mrs。

Tucker's　hand　with　effusion；　said；　〃Now　that's　regular　Blue　Grass

and　no　mistake！〃　and　retreated　under　cover　of　his　hilarity。　　In　the

hall　he　made　a　rallying　stand　to　repeat　confidentially　to　the

servant　who　had　overheard　them：　〃Blue　Grass；　all　over；　you　bet　your

life；〃　and；　opening　the　door；　was　apparently　swallowed　up　in　the

tempest。



Mrs。　Tucker's　smile　kept　her　lips　until　she　had　returned　to　her

room；　and　even　then　languidly　shone　in　her　eyes　for　some　minutes

after；　as　she　gazed　abstractedly　from　her　window　on　the　storm…

tossed　bay　in　the　distance。　　Perhaps　some　girlish　vision　of　the

peaceful　Blue　Glass　plain　momentarily　usurped　the　prospect；　but　it

is　to　be　doubted　if　there　was　much　romance　in　that　retrospect；　or

that　it　was　more　interesting　to　her　than　the　positive　and　sharply

cut　outlines　of　the　practical　life　she　now　held。　　Howbeit　she　soon

forgot　this　fancy　in　lazily　watching　a　boat　that；　in　the　teeth　of

the　gale；　was　beating　round　Alcatraz　Island。　　Although　at　times　a

mere　blank　speck　on　the　gray　waste　of　foam；　a　closer　scrutiny

showed　it　to　be　one　of　those　lateen…rigged　Italian　fishing　boats

that　so　often　flecked　the　distant　bay。　　Lost　in　the　sudden

darkening　of　rain；　or　reappearing　beneath　the　lifted　curtain　of　the

squall；　she　watched　it　weather　the　island；　and　then　turn　its

laboring　but　persistent　course　towards　the　open　channel。　　A　rent　in

the　Indian…inky　sky；　that　showed　the　narrowing　portals　of　the

Golden　Gate　beyond；　revealed；　as　unexpectedly；　the　destination　of

the　little　craft；　a　tall　ship　that　hitherto　lay　hidden　in　the　mist

of　the　Saucelito　shore。　　As　the　distance　lessened　between　boat　and

ship；　they　were　again　lost　in　the　downward　swoop　of　another　squall。

When　it　lifted；　the　ship　was　creeping　under　the　headland　towards

the　open　sea；　but　the　boat　was　gone。　　Mrs。　Tucker　in　vain　rubbed

the　pane　with　her　handkerchief；　it　had　vanished。　　Meanwhile　the

ship；　as　she　neared　the　Gate；　drew　out　from　the　protecting

headland；　stood　outlined　for　a　moment　with　spars　and　canvas　hearsed

in　black　against　the　lurid　rent　in　the　horizon；　and　then　seemed　to

sink　slowly　into　the　heaving　obscurity　beyond。　　A　sudden　onset　of

rain　against　the　windows　obliterated　the　remaining　prospect；　the

entrance　of　a　servant　completed　the　diversion。



〃Captain　Poindexter；　ma'am！〃



Mrs。　Tucker　lifted　her　pretty　eyebrows　interrogatively。　　Captain

Poindexter　was　a　legal　friend　of　her　husband；　and　had　dined　there

frequently；　nevertheless　she　asked：　〃Did　you　tell　him　Mr。　Tucker

was　not　at　home？〃



〃Yes；　'm。〃



〃Did　he　ask　for　ME？〃



〃Yes；　'm。〃



〃Tell　him　I'll　be　down　directly。〃



Mrs。　Tucker's　quiet　face　did　not　betray　the　fact　that　this　second

visitor　was　even　less　interesting　than　the　first。　　In　her　heart　she

did　not　like　Captain　Poindexter。　　With　a　clever　woman's　instinct

she　had　early　detected　the　fact　that　he　had　a　superior；　stronger

nature　than　her　husband；　as　a　loyal　wife；　she　secretly　resented　the

occasional　unconscious　exhibition　of　this　fact　on　the　part　of　his

intimate　friend　in　their　familiar　intercourse。　　Added　to　this

slight　jealousy；　there　was　a　certain　moral　antagonism　between

herself　and　the　captain　which　none　but　themselves　knew。　　They　were

both　philosophers；　but　Mrs。　Tucker's　serene　and　languid　optimism

would　not　tolerate　the　compassionate　and　kind…hearted　pessimisms　of

the　lawyer。　　〃Knowing　what　Jack　Poindexter　does　of　human　nature；〃

her　husband　had　once　said；　〃it's　mighty　fine　in　him　to　be　so　kind

and　forgiving。　　You　ought　to　like　him　better；　Belle。〃　　〃And　qualify

myself　to　be　forgiven；〃　said　the　lady　pertly。　　〃I　don't　see　what

you're　driving　at；　Belle；　I　give　it　up；〃　had　responded　the　puzzled

husband。　　Mrs。　Tucker　kissed　his　high　but　foolish　forehead

tenderly；　and　said：　〃I'm　glad　you　don't；　dear。〃



Meanwhile　her　second　visitor　had；　like　the　first；　employed　the

interval　in　a　critical　survey　of　the　glories　of　the　new　furniture；

but　with　apparently　more　compassion　than　resentment　in　his　manner。

Once　only　had　his　expression　changed。　　Over　the　fireplace　hung　a

large　photograph　of　Mr。　Spencer　Tucker。　　It　was　retouched；　refined；

and　idealized　in　the　highest　style　of　that　polite　and　diplomatic

art。　　As　Captain　Poindexter　looked　upon　the　fringed　hazel　eyes；　the

drooping　raven　moustache；　the　clustering　ringlets；　and　the　Byronic

full　throat　and　turned…down　collar　of　his　friend；　a　smile　of

exhausted　humorous　tolerance　and　affectionate　impatience　curved　his

lips。　　〃Well；　you　ARE　a　fool；　aren't　you？〃　he　apostrophized　it

half…audibly。



He　was　standing　before　the　picture　as　she　entered。　　Even　in　the