Mr. Jack Hamlin's Mediation by Bret Harte


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Page 24

He would have gone then, anyway, he knew, yet in his absurd self-
consciousness he was glad that her last suggestion had relieved him
of a sense of reckless compliance. He assented eagerly, when with
a wave of her hand, a flash of her white teeth, and the same
abruptness she had shown at their last parting, she caught Lucy by
the arm and darted away in a romping race to her dwelling. Jarman
started after her. He had not wanted to go to her father's house
particularly, but why was SHE evidently as averse to it? With the
subtle pleasure that this admission gave him there was a faint
stirring of suspicion.

It was gone when he found her and Lucy the next morning, radiant
with the sunshine, before his door. The restraint of their
previous meetings had been removed in some mysterious way, and they
chatted gayly as they walked towards the cliffs. She asked him
frankly many questions about himself, why he had come there, and if
he "wasn't lonely;" she answered frankly--I fear much more frankly
than he answered her--the many questions he asked her about herself
and her friends. When they reached the cliffs they descended to
the beach, which they found deserted. Before them--it seemed
scarce a pistol shot from the shore arose a high, broad rock,
beaten at its base by the long Pacific surf, on which a number of
shapeless animals were uncouthly disporting. This was Seal Rock,
the goal of their journey.

Yet after a few moments they no longer looked at it, but seated on
the sand, with Lucy gathering shells at the water's edge, they
continued their talk. Presently the talk became eager confidences,
and then,--there were long and dangerous lapses of silence, when
both were fain to make perfunctory talk with Lucy on the beach.
After one of those silences Jarman said:--

"Do you know I rather thought yesterday you didn't want me to come
to your father's house. Why was that?"

"Because Marco was there," said the girl frankly.

"What had HE to do with it?" said Jarman abruptly.

"He wants to marry me."

"And do you want to marry HIM?" said Jarman quickly.

"No," said the girl passionately.

"Why don't you get rid of him, then?"

"I can't, he's hiding here,--he's father's friend."

"Hiding? What's he been doing?"

"Stealing. Stealing gold-dust from miners. I never cared for him
anyway. And I hate a thief!"

She looked up quickly. Jarman had risen to his feet, his face
turned to sea.

"What are you looking at?" she said wonderingly.

"A ship," said Jarman, in a strange, hoarse voice. "I must hurry
back and signal. I'm afraid I haven't even time to walk with you,--
I must run for it. Good-by!"

He turned without offering his hand and ran hurriedly in the
direction of the semaphore.

Cara, discomfited, turned her black eyes to the sea. But it seemed
empty as before, no sail, no ship on the horizon line, only a
little schooner slowly beating out of the Gate. Ah, well! It no
doubt was there,--that sail,--though she could not see it; how keen
and far-seeing his handsome, honest eyes were! She heaved a little
sigh, and, calling Lucy to her side, began to make her way homeward.
But she kept her eyes on the semaphore; it seemed to her the next
thing to seeing him,--this man she was beginning to love. She waited
for the gaunt arms to move with the signal of the vessel he had
seen. But, strange to say, it was motionless. He must have been
mistaken.

All this, however, was driven from her mind in the excitement that
she found on her return thrilling her own family. They had been
warned that a police boat with detectives on board had been
dispatched from San Francisco to the cove. Luckily, they had
managed to convey the fugitive Franti on board a coastwise
schooner,--Cara started as she remembered the one she had seen
beating out of the Gate,--and he was now safe from pursuit. Cara
felt relieved; at the same time she felt a strange joy at her
heart, which sent the conscious blood to her cheek. She was not
thinking of the escaped Marco, but of Jarman. Later, when the
police boat arrived,--whether the detectives had been forewarned of
Marco's escape or not,--they contented themselves with a formal
search of the little fishing-hut and departed. But their boat
remained lying off the shore.

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