|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 18
"What reason?" said Rylands hurriedly.
"Said she LOVED you," returned Jack, kicking a brand back into the
fire. Mr. Rylands's white cheeks flamed out suddenly like the
brand. Seeing which, Jack turned upon him deliberately.
"Mr. Joshua Rylands, I've seen many fools in my time. I've seen
men holding four aces backed down because they thought they KNEW
the other man had a royal flush! I've seen a man sell his claim
for a wild-cat share, with the gold lying a foot below him in the
ground he walked on. I've seen a dead shot shoot wild because he
THOUGHT he saw something in the other man's eye. I've seen a heap
of God-forsaken fools, but I never saw one before who claimed God
as a pal. You've got a wife a d----d sight truer to you for what
you call her 'sin,' than you've ever been to her, with all your
d----d salvation! And as you couldn't make her otherwise, though
you've tried to hard enough, it seems to me that for square
downright chuckle-headedness, you can take the cake! Good-night!
Now, run away and play! You're making me tired."
"One moment," said Mr. Rylands awkwardly and hurriedly. "I may
have wronged you; I was mistaken. Won't you come back with me and
accept my--our--hospitality?"
"Not much," said Jack. "I left your house because I thought it
better for you and her that no one should know of my being there."
"But you were already recognized," said Mr. Rylands. "It was Jane
who lied about you, and your return with me will confute her
slanders."
"Who?" asked Jack.
"Jane, our hired girl."
Mr. Hamlin uttered an indescribable laugh.
"That's just as well! You simply tell Jane you SAW me; that I was
greatly shocked at what she said, but that I forgive her. I don't
think she'll say any more."
Strange to add, Mr. Hamlin's surmise was correct. Mr. Rylands
found Jane still in the kitchen alone, terrified, remorseful, yet
ever after silent on the subject. Stranger still, the hired man
became equally uncommunicative. Mrs. Rylands, attributing her
husband's absence only to care of the stock, had gone to bed in a
feverish condition, and Mr. Rylands did not deem it prudent to tell
her of his interview. The next day she sent for the doctor, and it
was deemed necessary for her to keep her bed for a few days. Her
husband was singularly attentive and considerate during that time,
and it was probable that Mrs. Rylands seized that opportunity to
tell him the secret she spoke of the night before. Whatever it
was,--for it was not generally known for a few months later,--it
seemed to draw them closer together, imparted a protecting dignity
to Joshua Rylands, which took the place of his former selfish
austerity, gave them a future to talk of confidentially, hopefully,
and sometimes foolishly, which took the place of their more foolish
past, and when the roll of calico came from the cross roads, it
contained also a quantity of fine linen, laces, small caps, and
other trifles, somewhat in contrast to the more homely materials
ordered.
And when three months were past, the sitting-room was often lit up
and made cheerful, particularly on that supreme occasion when, with
a great deal of enthusiasm, all the women of the countryside
flocked to see Mrs. Rylands and her first baby. And a more
considerate and devoted couple than the father and mother they had
never known.
THE MAN AT THE SEMAPHORE
In the early days of the Californian immigration, on the extremest
point of the sandy peninsula, where the bay of San Francisco
debouches into the Pacific, there stood a semaphore telegraph.
Tossing its black arms against the sky,--with its back to the
Golden Gate and that vast expanse of sea whose nearest shore was
Japan,--it signified to another semaphore further inland the "rigs"
of incoming vessels, by certain uncouth signs, which were again
passed on to Telegraph Hill, San Francisco, where they reappeared
on a third semaphore, and read to the initiated "schooner," "brig"
"ship," or "steamer." But all homesick San Francisco had learned
the last sign, and on certain days of the month every eye was
turned to welcome those gaunt arms widely extended at right angles,
which meant "sidewheel steamer" (the only steamer which carried the
mails) and "letters from home." In the joyful reception accorded
to that herald of glad tidings, very few thought of the lonely
watcher on the sand dunes who dispatched them, or even knew of that
desolate Station.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|