a ward of the golden gate-第29节

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fancy　that　she　was　still　in　Europe；　and　had　either　hidden　herself
in　some　obscure　provincial　town　with　the　half…crazy　Pendleton；　or
had　entered　a　convent；　or　even；　in　reckless　despair；　had　accepted
the　name　and　title　of　some　penniless　nobleman。　　It　was　this
miserable　doubt　that　had　made　his　homeward　journey　at　times　seem
like　a　cruel　desertion　of　her；　while　at　other　moments　the
conviction　that　Milly's　Californian　relatives　might　give　him　some
clew　to　her　whereabouts　made　him　feverishly　fearful　of　delaying　an
hour　on　his　way　to　San　Francisco。　　He　did　not　believe　that　she　had
tolerated　the　company　of　Briones　a　single　moment　after　the　scene　at
the　Bad　Hof；　and　yet　he　had　no　confidence　in　the　colonel's　attitude
towards　the　Mexican。　　Hopeless　of　the　future　as　her　letter　seemed；
still　its　naive　and　tacit　confession　of　her　feelings　at　the　moment
was　all　that　sustained　him。

Two　days　passed；　and　he　still　lingered　aimlessly　in　New　York。　　In
two　days　more　the　Panama　steamer　would　sailyet　in　his　hesitation
he　had　put　off　securing　his　passage。　　He　visited　the　offices　of　the
different　European　steamer　lines；　and　examined　the　recent　passenger
lists；　but　there　was　no　record　of　any　of　the　party。　　What　made　his
quest　seem　the　more　hopeless　was　his　belief　that；　after　Briones'
revelation；　she　had　cast　off　the　name　of　Arguello　and　taken　some
other。　　She　might　even　be　in　New　York　under　that　new　name　now。

On　the　morning　of　the　third　day；　among　his　letters　was　one　that
bore　the　postmark　of　a　noted　suburban　settlement　of　wealthy　villa…
owners　on　the　Hudson　River。　　It　was　from　Milly　Woods；　stating　that
her　father　had　read　of　his　arrival　in　the　papers；　and　begged　he
would　dine　and　stay　the　next　night　with　them　at　〃Under　Cliff；〃　if
he　〃still　had　any　interest　in　the　fortunes　of　old　friends。　　Of
course；〃　added　the　perennially　incoherent　Milly；　〃if　it　bores　you
we　sha'n't　expect　you。〃　　The　quick　color　came　to　Paul's　careworn
cheek。　　He　telegraphed　assent；　and　at　sunset　that　afternoon　stepped
off　the　train　at　a　little　private　woodland　stationso　abnormally
rustic　and　picturesque　in　its　brown…bark　walls　covered　with　scarlet
Virginia　creepers　that　it　looked　like　a　theatrical　erection。

Mr。　Woods's　station　wagon　was　in　waiting；　but　Paul；　handing　the
driver　his　valise；　and　ascertaining　the　general　direction　of　the
house；　and　that　it　was　not　far　distant；　told　him　to　go　on　and　he
would　follow　afoot。　　The　tremor　of　vague　anticipation　had　already
come　upon　him；　something　that　he　knew　not　whether　he　feared　or
longed　for；　only　that　it　was　inevitable；　had　begun　to　possess　him。
He　would　soon　recover　himself　in　the　flaring　glory　of　this
woodland；　and　the　invigoration　of　this　hale　October　air。

It　was　a　beautiful　and　brilliant　sunset；　yet　not　so　beautiful　and
brilliant　but　that　the　whole　opulent　forest　around　him　seemed　to
challenge　and　repeat　its　richest　as　well　as　its　most　delicate　dyes。
The　reddening　west；　seen　through　an　opening　of　scarlet　maples；　was
no　longer　red；　the　golden　glory　of　the　sun；　sinking　over　a
promontory　of　gleaming　yellow　sumach　that　jutted　out　into　the　noble
river；　was　shorn　of　its　intense　radiance；　at　times　in　the　thickest
woods　he　seemed　surrounded　by　a　yellow　nimbus；　at　times　so　luminous
was　the　glow　of　these　translucent　leaves　that　the　position　of　the
sun　itself　seemed　changed；　or　the　shadows　cast　in　defiance　of　its
glory。　　As　he　walked　on；　long　reaches　of　the　lordly　placid　stream
at　his　side　were　visible；　as　far　as　the　terraces　of　the　opposite
shore；　lifted　on　basaltic　columns；　themselves　streaked　and　veined
with　gold　and　fire。　　Paul　had　seen　nothing　like　this　since　his
boyhood；　for　an　instant　the　great　heroics　of　the　Sierran　landscape
were　forgotten　in　this　magnificent　harlequinade。

A　dim　footpath　crossed　the　road　in　the　direction　of　the　house；
which　for　the　last　few　moments　had　been　slowly　etching　itself　as　a
soft　vignette　in　a　tinted　aureole　of　walnut　and　maple　upon　the
steel　blue　of　the　river。　　He　was　hesitating　whether　to　take　this
short　cut　or　continue　on　by　the　road；　when　he　heard　the　rustling　of
quick　footsteps　among　the　fallen　leaves　of　the　variegated　thicket
through　which　it　stole。　　He　stopped　short；　the　leafy　screen
shivered　and　parted；　and　a　tall　graceful　figure；　like　a　draped　and
hidden　Columbine；　burst　through　its　painted　foliage。　　It　was　Yerba！

She　ran　quickly　towards　him；　with　parted　lips；　shining　eyes；　and　a
few　scarlet　leaves　clinging　to　the　stuff　of　her　worsted　dress　in　a
way　that　recalled　the　pink　petals　of　Rosario。

〃When　I　saw　you　were　not　in　the　wagon　and　knew　you　were　walking　I
slipped　out　to　intercept　you；　as　I　had　something　to　tell　you　before
you　saw　the　others。　　I　thought　you　wouldn't　mind。〃　　She　stopped；
and　suddenly　hesitated。

What　was　this　new　strange　shyness　that　seemed　to　droop　her　eyelids；
her　proud　head；　and　even　the　slim　hand　that　had　been　so　impulsively
and　frankly　outstretched　towards　him？　　And　hePaulwhat　was　he
doing？　　Where　was　this　passionate　outburst　that　had　filled　his
heart　for　nights　and　days？　　Where　this　eager　tumultuous　questioning
that　his　feverish　lips　had　rehearsed　hour　by　hour？　　Where　this
desperate　courage　that　would　sweep　the　whole　world　away　if　it　stood
between　them？　　Where；　indeed？　　He　was　standing　only　a　few　feet　from
hercold；　silent；　and　tremulous！

She　drew　back　a　step；　lifted　her　head　with　a　quick　toss　that　seemed
to　condense　the　moisture　in　her　shining　eyes；　and　sent　what　might
have　been　a　glittering　dew…drop　flying　into　the　loosed　tendrils　of
her　hair。　　Calm　and　erect　again；　she　put　her　little　hand　to　her
jacket　pocket。

〃I　only　wanted　you　to　read　a　letter　I　got　yesterday；〃　she　said；
taking　out　an　envelope。

The　spell　was　broken。　　Paul　caught　eagerly　at　the　hand　that　held
the　letter；　and　would　have　drawn　her　to　him；　but　she　put　him　aside
gravely　but　sweetly。

〃Read　that　letter！〃

〃Tell　me　of　YOURSELF　first！〃　he　broke　out　passionately。　　〃Why　you
fled　from　me；　and　why　I　now　find　you　here；　by　the　merest　chance；
without　a　word　of　summons　from　yourself；　Yerba？　　Tell　me　who　is
with　you？　　Are　you　free　and　your　own　mistressfree　to　act　for
yourself　and　me？　　Speak；　darlingdon't　be　cruel！　　Since　that　night
I　have　longed　for　you；　sought　for　you；　and　suffered　for　you　every
day　and　hour。　　Tell　me　if　I　find　you　the　same　Yerba　who　wrote〃

〃Read　that　letter！〃

〃I　care　for　none　but　the　one　you　left　me。　　I　have　read　and　reread
it；　Yerbacarried　it　always　with　me。　　See！　　I　have　it　here！〃　　He
was　in　the　act　of　withdrawing　it　from　his　breast…pocket；　when　she
put　up　her　hand　piteously。

〃Please；　Paul；　pleaseread　this　letter　first！〃

There　was　something　in　her　new　supplicating　grace；　still　retaining
the　faintest　suggestion　of　her　old　girlish　archness；　that　struck
him。　　He　took　the　letter　and　opened　it。　　It　was　from　Colonel
Pendleton。

Plainly；　concisely；　and　formally；　without　giving　the　name　of　his
authority　or　suggesting　his　interview　with　Mrs。　Argalls；　he　had
informed　Yerba　that　he　had　documentary　testimony　that　she　was　the
daughter　of　the　late　Jose　de　Arguello；　and　legally　entitled　to　bear
his　name。　　A　copy　of　the　instructions　given　to　his　wife；
recognizing　Yerba　Buena；　the　ward　of　the　San　Francisco　Trust；　as
his　child　and　hers；　and　leaving　to　the　mother　the　choice　of　making
it　known　to　her　and　others；　was　inclosed。

Paul　turned　an　unchanged　face　upon　Yerba；　who　was　watching　him
eagerly；　uneasily；　almost　breathlessly。

〃And　you　think　this　concerns　ME！〃　he　said　bitterly。　　〃You　think
only　of　this；　when　I　speak　of　the　precious　letter　that　bade　me
hope；　and　brought　me　to　you？〃

〃Paul；〃　said　the　girl；　with　wondering　eyes　and　hesitating　lips；　〃do
you　mean　to　say　thatthatthis　isnothing　to　you？〃

〃Yesbut　forgive　me；　darling！〃　he　broke　out　again；　with　a　sudden
vague　remorsefulness；　as　he　once　more　sought　her　elusive　hand。　　〃I
am　a　brutean　egotist！　　I　forgot　that　it　might　be　something　to
YOU。〃

〃Paul；〃　continued　the　girl；　her　voice　quivering　with　a　strange　joy；
〃do　you　say　that　youYOU　yourself；　care　nothing　for　this？〃

〃Nothing；〃　he　answered；　gazing　at　her　transfigured　face　with
admiring　wonder。

〃And〃more　timidly；　as　a　faint　aurora　kindled　in　her　checks〃that
you　don't　carethatthatI　am　coming　to　you　WITH　A　NAME；　to　give
you　inexchange？〃

He　started。

〃Yerba；　you　are　not　mocking　me？　　You　will　be　my　wife？〃

She　smiled；　yet　moving　softly　backwards　with　the　grave　stateliness
of　a　vanishing　yet　beckoning　goddess；　until　she　reached　the　sumach…
bush　from　which　she　had　emerged。　　He　followed。　　Another　backward
step；　and　it　yielded　to　let　her　through；　but　even　as　it　did　so　she
caught　him　in　her　arms；　and　for　a　single　moment　it　closed　upon　them
both；　and　hid　them　in　its　glory。　　A　still　lingering　song…bird；
possibly　convinced　that　he　had　mistaken　the　season；　and　that　spring
had　really　come；　flew　out　with　a　little　cry　to　carry　the　message
south；　but　even　then　Paul　and　Yerba　emerged　with　such　innocent；
childlike　gravity；　and；　side　by　side；　walked　so　composedly　towards
the　house；　that　he　thought　better　of　it。


CHAPTER　IX。


It　was　only　the　THIRD　time　they　had　ever　metdid　Paul　consider
that　when　he　thought　her　cold？　　Did　he　know　now　why　she　had　not
understood