the story of a mine-第22部分

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rascal　or　fool　who　carries　with　him　that　which　makes　him　his　own

detective。〃



〃I　had　a　friend；〃　continued　Harlowe；　〃a　clever　fellow　enough；　but

who　was　so　foolish　as　to　seriously　complicate　himself　with　a　woman。

He　was　himself　the　soul　of　honor；　and　at　the　beginning　of　their

correspondence　he　proposed　that　they　should　each　return　the　other's

letters　with　their　answer。　　They　did　so　for　years；　but　it　cost　him

ten　thousand　dollars　and　no　end　of　trouble　after　all。〃



〃Why？〃　asked　Thatcher　simply。



〃Because　he　was　such　an　egotistical　ass　as　TO　KEEP　THE　LETTER

PROPOSING　IT；　which　she　had　duly　returned；　among　his　papers　as　a

sentimental　record。　　Of　course　somebody　eventually　found　it。〃



〃Good　night；〃　said　Thatcher；　rising　abruptly。　　〃If　I　stayed　here

much　longer　I　should　begin　to　disbelieve　my　own　mother。〃



〃I　have　known　of　such　hereditary　traits；〃　returned　Harlowe　with　a

laugh。　　〃But　come；　you　must　not　go　without　the　champagne。〃　　He　led

the　way　to　the　adjacent　room；　which　proved　to　be　only　the　ante…

chamber　of　another；　on　the　threshold　of　which　Thatcher　stopped　with

genuine　surprise。　　It　was　an　elegantly　furnished　library。



〃Sybarite！　　Why　was　I　never　here　before？〃



〃Because　you　came　as　a　client；　to…night　you　are　my　guest。　　All　who

enter　here　leave　their　business；　with　their　hats；　in　the　hall。

Look；　there　isn't　a　law　book　on　those　shelves；　that　table　never　was

defaced　by　a　title　deed　or　parchment。　　You　look　puzzled？　　Well；　it

was　a　whim　of　mine　to　put　my　residence　and　my　work…shop　under　the

same　roof；　yet　so　distinct　that　they　would　never　interfere　with

each　other。　　You　know　the　house　above　is　let　out　to　lodgers。　　I

occupy　the　first　floor　with　my　mother　and　sister；　and　this　is　my

parlor。　　I　do　my　work　in　that　severe　room　that　fronts　the　street：

here　is　where　I　play。　　A　man　must　have　something　else　in　life　than

mere　business。　　I　find　it　less　harmful　and　expensive　to　have　my

pleasure　here。〃



Thatcher　had　sunk　moodily　in　the　embracing　arms　of　an　easy　chair。

He　was　thinking　deeply；　he　was　fond　of　books　too；　and；　like　all　men

who　have　fared　hard　and　led　wandering　lives；　he　knew　the　value　of

cultivated　repose。　　Like　all　men　who　have　been　obliged　to　sleep

under　blankets　and　in　the　open　air；　he　appreciated　the　luxuries　of

linen　sheets　and　a　frescoed　roof。　　It　is；　by　the　way；　only　your

sick　city　clerk　or　your　dyspeptic　clergyman　who　fancy　that　they

have　found　in　the　bad　bread；　fried　steaks；　and　frowzy　flannels　of

mountain　picknicking　the　true　art　of　living。　　And　it　is　a　somewhat

notable　fact　that　your　true　mountaineer　or　your　gentleman　who　has

been　obliged　to　honestly　〃rough　it；〃　does　not；　as　a　general　thing；

write　books　about　its　advantages；　or　implore　their　fellow　mortals

to　come　and　share　their　solitude　and　their　discomforts。



Thoroughly　appreciating　the　taste　and　comfort　of　Harlowe's　library；

yet　half…envious　of　its　owner；　and　half…suspicious　that　his　own

earnest　life　for　the　past　few　years　might　have　been　different；

Thatcher　suddenly　started　from　his　seat　and　walked　towards　a　parlor

easel；　whereon　stood　a　picture。　　It　was　Carmen　de　Haro's　first

sketch　of　the　furnace　and　the　mine。



〃I　see　you　are　taken　with　that　picture；〃　said　Harlowe；　pausing　with

the　champagne　bottle　in　his　hand。　　〃You　show　your　good　taste。　　It's

been　much　admired。　　Observe　how　splendidly　that　firelight　plays

over　the　sleeping　face　of　that　figure；　yet　brings　out　by　very

contrast　its　almost　death…like　repose。　　Those　rocks　are　powerfully

handled；　what　a　suggestion　of　mystery　in　those　shadows！　　You　know

the　painter？〃



Thatcher　murmured；　〃Miss　De　Haro；〃　with　a　new　and　rather　odd　self…

consciousness　in　speaking　her　name。



〃Yes。　　And　you　know　the　story　of　the　picture　of　course？〃



Thatcher　thought　he　didn't。　　Well；　no；　in　fact；　he　did　not　remember。



〃Why；　this　recumbent　figure　was　an　old　Spanish　lover　of　hers；　whom

she　believed　to　have　been　murdered　there。　　It's　a　ghastly　fancy；

isn't　it？〃



Two　things　annoyed　Thatcher：　first　the　epithet　〃lover；〃　as　applied

to　Concho　by　another　man；　second；　that　the　picture　belonged　to　him：

and　what　the　d…l　did　she　mean　by



〃Yes；〃　he　broke　out　finally；　〃but　how　did　YOU　get　it？〃



〃Oh；　I　bought　it　of　her。　　I've　been　a　sort　of　patron　of　her　ever

since　I　found　out　how　she　stood　towards　us。　　As　she　was　quite　alone

here　in　Washington；　my　mother　and　sister　have　taken　her　up；　and

have　been　doing　the　social　thing。〃



〃How　long　since？〃　asked　Thatcher。



〃Oh；　not　long。　　The　day　she　telegraphed　you；　she　came　here　to　know

what　she　could　do　for　us；　and　when　I　said　nothing　could　be　done

except　to　keep　Congress　off；　why；　she　went　and　DID　IT。　　For　SHE；

and　she　alone；　got　that　speech　out　of　the　Senator。　　But；〃　he　added；

a　little　mischievously；　〃you　seem　to　know　very　little　about　her？〃



〃No！Ithat　isI've　been　very　busy　lately；〃　returned　Thatcher；


staring　at　the　picture。　　〃Does　she　come　here　often？〃



〃Yes；　lately；　quite　often；　she　was　here　this　evening　with　mother；

was　here；　I　think；　when　you　came。〃



Thatcher　looked　intently　at　Harlowe。　　But　that　gentleman's　face

betrayed　no　confusion。　　Thatcher　refilled　his　glass　a　little

awkwardly；　tossed　off　the　liquor　at　a　draught；　and　rose　to　his

feet。



〃Come；　old　fellow；　you're　not　going　now。　　I　shan't　permit　it；〃　said

Harlowe；　laying　his　hand　kindly　on　his　client's　shoulder。　　〃You're

out　of　sorts！　　Stay　here　with　me　to…night。　　Our　accommodations　are

not　large；　but　are　elastic。　　I　can　bestow　you　comfortably　until

morning。　　Wait　here　a　moment　while　I　give　the　necessary　orders。〃



Thatcher　was　not　sorry　to　be　left　alone。　　In　the　last　half　hour　he

had　become　convinced　that　his　love　for　Carmen　de　Haro　had　been　in

some　way　most　dreadfully　abused。　　While　HE　was　hard　at　work　in

California；　she　was　being　introduced　in　Washington　society　by

parties　with　eligible　brothers　who　bought　her　paintings。　　It　is　a

relief　to　the　truly　jealous　mind　to　indulge　in　plurals。　　Thatcher

liked　to　think　that　she　was　already　beset　by　hundreds　of　brothers。



He　still　kept　staring　at　the　picture。　　By　and　by　it　faded　away　in

part；　and　a　very　vivid　recollection　of　the　misty；　midnight；　moonlit

walk　he　had　once　taken　with　her　came　back；　and　refilled　the　canvas

with　its　magic。　　He　saw　the　ruined　furnace；　the　dark；　overhanging

masses　of　rock；　the　trembling　intricacies　of　foliage；　and；　above

all；　the　flash　of　dark　eyes　under　a　mantilla　at　his　shoulder。　　What

a　fool　he　had　been！　　Had　he　not　really　been　as　senseless　and　stupid

as　this　very　Concho；　lying　here　like　a　log？　　And　she　had　loved　that

man。　　What　a　fool　she　must　have　thought　him　that　evening！　　What　a

snob　she　must　think　him　now！



He　was　startled　by　a　slight　rustling　in　the　passage；　that　ceased

almost　as　he　turned。　　Thatcher　looked　towards　the　door　of　the　outer

office；　as　if　half　expecting　that　the　Lord　Chancellor；　like　the

commander　in　Don　Juan；　might　have　accepted　his　thoughtless

invitation。　　He　listened　again；　everything　was　still。　　He　was

conscious　of　feeling　ill　at　ease　and　a　trifle　nervous。　　What　a　long

time　Harlowe　took　to　make　his　preparations。　　He　would　look　out　in

the　hall。　　To　do　this　it　was　necessary　to　turn　up　the　gas。　　He　did

so；　and　in　his　confusion　turned　it　out！



Where　were　the　matches？　　He　remembered　that　there　was　a　bronze

something　on　the　table　that；　in　the　irony　of　modern　decorative

taste；　might　hold　ashes　or　matches；　or　anything　of　an　unpicturesque

character。　　He　knocked　something　over；　evidently　the　ink；

something　else；this　time　a　champagne　glass。　　Becoming　reckless；

and　now　groping　at　random　in　the　ruins；　he　overturned　the　bronze

Mercury　on　the　center　table；　and　then　sat　down　hopelessly　in　his

chair。　　And　then　a　pair　of　velvet　fingers　slid　into　his；　with　the

matches；　and　this　audible；　musical　statement：



〃It　is　a　match　you　are　seeking？　　Here　is　of　them。〃



Thatcher　flushed；　embarrassed；　nervous；feeling　the　ridiculousness

of　saying；　〃Thank　you〃　to　a　dark　somebody；struck　the　match；

beheld　by　its　brief；　uncertain　glimmer　Carmen　de　Haro　beside　him；

burned　his　fingers；　coughed；　dropped　the　match；　and　was　cast　again

into　outer　darkness。



〃Let　me　try！〃



Carmen　struck　a　match；　jumped　briskly　on　the　chair；　lit　the　gas；

jumped　lightly　down　again；　and　said：　〃You　do　like　to　sit　in　the

dark；eh？　　So　am　Isometimesalone。〃



〃Miss　De　Haro；〃　said　Thatcher；　with　sudden；　honest　earnestness；

advancing　with　outstretched　hands；　〃believe　me　I　am　sincerely

delighted；　overjoyed；　again　to　meet〃



She　had；　however；　quickly　retreated　as　he　approached；　ensconcing

herself　behind　the　high　back　of　a　large　antique　chair；　on　the

cushion　of　which　she　knelt。　　I　regret　to　add　also　that　she　slapped

his　outstretched　fingers　a　little　sharply　with　her　inevitable　black

fan　as　he　still　advanced。



〃We　are　not　in　California。　　It　is　Washington。　　It　is　after　midnight。

I　am　a　poor　girl；　and　I　have　to　losewhat　you　call'a　character。'

You　shall　sit　over　there；〃she　pointed　to　the　sofa；　〃and　I　shall

sit　here；〃　she　rested　her　boyish　head　on　the　top　of　the　chair；　〃and

we　shall　talk；　for　I　have　to　speak　to　you；　Don　Royal。〃



Thatcher　took　the　seat　indicated；　contritely；　humbly；　submissively。

Carmen's　little　heart　was　touched。　　But　she　still　went　on　over　the

back　of　the　chair。



〃Don　Royal；〃　she　said；　emphasizing　each　word　at　him　with　her　fan；

〃before　I　saw　you；ever　knew　of　you；I　was　a　child。　　Yes；　I　was

but　a　child！　　I　was　a　bold；　bad　child；and　I　was　what　you　call　a

a'forgaire'！〃



〃A　what？〃　asked　Thatcher；　hesitating　between　a　smile　and　a　sigh。



〃A　forgaire！〃　continued　Carmen　demurely。　　〃I　did　of　myself　write

the　names　of　ozzer　peoples；〃　when　Carmen　was　excited　she　lost　the

control　of　the　English　tongue；　〃I　did　write　just　to　please　myself；

it　was　my　onkle　that　did　make　of　it　money；you　understand；　eh？

Shall　you　not　speak？　　Must　I　again　hit　you？〃



〃Go　on；〃　said　Thatche