tales of trail and town-第5部分

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sunbaked　prairie；　rushed　upon　him。　　There；　too；　had　lain　the

weapons　of　the　departed　chieftain；　there；　too；　lay　the　Indian's

〃faithful　hound；〃　here　simulated　by　the　cross…legged　crusader's

canine　effigy。　　And　now；　strangest　of　all；　he　found　that　this

unlooked…for　recollection　and　remembrance　thrilled　him　more　at　that

moment　than　the　dead　before　him。　　Here　they　rested；the　Atherlys

of　centuries；　recumbent　in　armor　or　priestly　robes；　upright　in

busts　that　were　periwigged　or　hidden　in　long　curls；　above　the

marble　record　of　their　deeds　and　virtues。　　Some　of　these　records

were　in　Latin；an　unknown　tongue　to　Peter；some　in　a　quaint

English　almost　as　unintelligible；　but　none　as　foreign　to　him　as　the

dead　themselves。　　Their　banners　waved　above　his　head；　their　voices

filled　the　silent　church；　but　fell　upon　his　vacant　eye　and　duller

ear。　　He　was　none　of　them。



Presently　he　was　conscious　of　a　footstep；　so　faint；　so　subtle；　that

it　might　have　come　from　a　peregrinating　ghost。　　He　turned　quickly

and　saw　Lady　Elfrida；　half　bold；　yet　half　frightened；　halting

beside　a　pillar　of　the　chancel。　　But　there　was　nothing　of　the　dead

about　her：　she　was　radiating　and　pulsating　with　the　uncompromising

and　material　freshness　of　English　girlhood。　　The　wild　rose　in　the

hedgerow　was　not　more　tangible　than　her　cheek；　nor　the　summer　sky

more　clearly　cool　and　blue　than　her　eyes。　　The　vigor　of　health　and

unfettered　freedom　of　limb　was　in　her　figure　from　her　buckled

walking…shoe　to　her　brown　hair　topped　by　a　sailor　hat。　　The

assurance　and　contentment　of　a　well…ordered　life；　of　secured

position　and　freedom　from　vain　anxieties　or　expectations；　were

visible　in　every　line　of　her　refined；　delicate；　and　evenly　quiescent

features。　　And　yet　Lady　Elfrida；　for　the　first　time　in　her　girlhood；

felt　a　little　nervous。



Yet　she　was　frank；　too；　with　the　frankness　of　those　who　have　no

thought　of　being　misunderstood。　　She　said　she　had　come　there　out　of

curiosity　to　see　how　he　would　〃get　on〃　with　his　ancestors。　　She　had

been　watching　him　from　the　chancel　ever　since　he　came；and　she　was

disappointed。　　As　far　as　emotion　went　she　thought　he　had　the

advantage　of　the　stoniest　and　longest　dead　of　them　all。　　Perhaps　he

did　not　like　them？　　But　he　must　be　careful　what　he　SAID；　for　some

of　her　own　people　were　there；manifestly　this　one。　　（She　put　the

toe　of　her　buckled　shoe　on　the　crusader　Peter　had　just　looked　at。）

And　then　there　was　another　in　the　corner。　　So　she　had　a　right　to

come　there　as　well　as　he；and　she　could　act　as　cicerone！　　This　one

was　a　De　Brecy；　one　of　King　John's　knights；　who　married　an　Atherly。

（She　swung　herself　into　a　half…sitting　posture　on　the　effigy　of　the

dead　knight；　composed　her　straight　short　skirt　over　her　trim

ankles；　and　looked　up　in　Peter's　dark　face。）　　That　would　make　them

some　kind　of　relations；wouldn't　it？　　He　must　come　over　to　Bentley

Towers　and　see　the　rest　of　the　De　Brecys　in　the　chapel　there　to…

morrow。　　Perhaps　there　might　be　some　he　liked　better；　and　who

looked　more　like　him。　　For　there　was　no　one　here　or　at　the　Grange

who　resembled　him　in　the　least。



He　assented　to　the　truth　of　this　with　such　grave；　disarming

courtesy；　and　yet　with　such　undisguised　wonder；as　she　appeared　to

talk　with　greater　freedom　to　a　stranger　than　an　American　girl

would；that　she　at　once　popped　off　the　crusader；　and　accompanied

him　somewhat　more　demurely　around　the　church。　　Suddenly　she　stopped

with　a　slight　exclamation。



They　had　halted　before　a　tablet　to　the　memory　of　a　later　Atherly；

an　officer　of　his　Majesty's　100th　Foot；　who　was　killed　at

Braddock's　defeat。　　The　tablet　was　supported　on　the　one　side　by　a

weeping　Fame；　and　on　the　other　by　a　manacled　North　American　Indian。

She　stammered　and　said：　〃You　see　there　are　other　Atherlys　who　went

to　America　even　before　your　father；〃　and　then　stopped　with　a　sense

of　having　made　a　slip。



A　wild　and　inexplicable　resentment　against　this　complacent

historical　outrage　suddenly　took　possession　of　Peter。　　He　knew　that

his　rage　was　inconsistent　with　his　usual　calm；　but　he　could　not

help　it！　　His　swarthy　cheek　glowed；　his　dark　eyes　flashed；　he

almost　trembled　with　excitement　as　he　hurriedly　pointed　out　to　Lady

Elfrida　that　the　Indians　were　VICTORIOUS　in　that　ill…fated

expedition　of　the　British　forces；　and　that　the　captive　savage　was

an　allegorical　lie。　　So　swift　and　convincing　was　his　emotion　that

the　young　girl；　knowing　nothing　of　the　subject　and　caring　less；

shared　his　indignation；　followed　him　with　anxious　eyes；　and　their

hands　for　an　instant　touched　in　innocent　and　generous　sympathy。

And　thenhe　knew　not　how　or　whya　still　more　wild　and　terrible

idea　sprang　up　in　his　fancy。　　He　knew　it　was　madness；　yet　for　a

moment　he　could　only　stand　and　grapple　with　it　silently　and

breathlessly。　　It　was　to　seize　this　young　and　innocent　girl；　this

witness　of　his　disappointment；　this　complacent　and　beautiful　type

of　all　they　valued　here；　and　bear　her　awaya　prisoner；　a　hostage

he　knew　not　whyon　a　galloping　horse　in　the　dust　of　the　prairie

far　beyond　the　seas！　　It　was　only　when　he　saw　her　cheek　flush　and

pale；　when　he　saw　her　staring　at　him　with　helpless；　frightened；　but

fascinated　eyes；the　eyes　of　the　fluttering　bird　under　the　spell

of　the　rattlesnake；that　he　drew　his　breath　and　turned　bewildered

away。　　〃And　do　you　know；　dear；〃　she　said　with　naive　simplicity　to

her　sister　that　evening；　〃that　although　he　was　an　American；　and

everybody　says　that　they　don't　care　at　all　for　those　poor　Indians；

he　was　so　magnanimous　in　his　indignation　that　I　fancied　he　looked

like　one　of　Cooper's　heroes　himself　rather　than　an　Atherly。　　It　was

such　a　stupid　thing　for　me　to　show　him　that　tomb　of　Major　Atherly；

you　know；　who　fought　the　Americans；didn't　he？or　was　it　later？

but　I　quite　forgot　he　was　an　American。〃　　And　with　this　belief　in

her　mind；　and　in　the　high　expiation　of　a　noble　nature；　she　forbore

her　characteristic　raillery；　and　followed　him　meekly；　manacled　in

spirit　like　the　allegorical　figure；　to　the　church　porch；　where　they

separated；　to　meet　on　the　morrow。　　But　that　morrow　never　came。



For　late　in　the　afternoon　a　cable　message　reached　him　from

California　asking　him　to　return　to　accept　a　nomination　to　Congress

from　his　own　district。　　It　determined　his　resolution；　which　for　a

moment　at　the　church　porch　had　wavered　under　the　bright　eyes　of

Lady　Elfrida。　　He　telegraphed　his　acceptance；　hurriedly　took　leave

of　his　honestly　lamenting　kinsman；　followed　his　dispatch　to　London；

and　in　a　few　days　was　on　the　Atlantic。



How　he　was　received　in　California；　how　he　found　his　sister　married

to　the　blond　lawyer；　how　he　recovered　his　popularity　and　won　his

election；　are　details　that　do　not　belong　to　this　chronicle　of　his

quest。　　And　that　quest　seems　to　have　terminated　forever　with　his

appearance　at　Washington　to　take　his　seat　as　Congressman。



It　was　the　night　of　a　levee　at　the　White　House。　　The　East　Room　was

crowded　with　smartly　dressed　men　and　women　of　the　capital；　quaintly

simple　legislators　from　remote　States　in　bygone　fashions；　officers

in　uniform；　and　the　diplomatic　circle　blazing　with　orders。　　The

invoker　of　this　brilliant　assembly　stood　in　simple　evening　dress

near　the　door；unattended　and　hedged　by　no　formality。　　He　shook

the　hand　of　the　new　Congressman　heartily；　congratulated　him　by

name；　and　turned　smilingly　to　the　next　comer。　　Presently　there　was

a　slight　stir　at　one　of　the　opposite　doors；　the　crowd　fell　back；

and　five　figures　stalked　majestically　into　the　centre　of　the　room。

They　were　the　leading　chiefs　of　an　Indian　reservation　coming　to　pay

their　respects　to　their　〃Great　Father；〃　the　President。　　Their

costumes　were　a　mingling　of　the　picturesque　with　the　grotesque；　of

tawdriness　with　magnificence；　of　artificial　tinsel　and　glitter　with

the　regal　spoils　of　the　chase；　of　childlike　vanity　with　barbaric

pride。　　Yet　before　these　the　glittering　orders　and　ribbons　of　the

diplomats　became　dull　and　meaningless；　the　uniforms　of　the　officers

mere　servile　livery。　　Their　painted；　immobile　faces　and　plumed

heads　towered　with　grave　dignity　above　the　meaner　crowd；　their

inscrutable　eyes　returned　no　response　to　the　timid　glances　directed

towards　them。　　They　stood　by　themselves；　alone　and　impassive；yet

their　presence　filled　the　room　with　the　sense　of　kings。　　The

unostentatious；　simple　republican　court　suddenly　seemed　to　have

become　royal。　　Even　the　interpreter　who　stood　between　their　remote

dignity　and　the　nearer　civilized　world　acquired　the　status　of　a

court　chamberlain。



When　their　〃Great　Father；〃　apparently　the　less　important　personage；

had　smilingly　received　them；　a　political　colleague　approached　Peter

and　took　his　arm。　　〃Gray　Eagle　would　like　to　speak　with　you。　　Come

on！　　Here's　your　chance！　　You　may　be　put　on　the　Committee　on　Indian

Relations；　and　pick　up　a　few　facts。　　Remember　we　want　a　firm

policy；　no　more　palaver　about　the　'Great　Father'　and　no　more

blankets　and　guns！　　You　know　what　we　used　to　say　out　West；　'The

only　〃Good　Indian〃　is　a　dead　one。'　　So　wade　in；　and　hear　what　the

old　plug　hat　has　to　say。〃



Peter　permitted　himself　to　be　led　to　the　group。　　Even　at　that

moment　he　remembered　the　figure　of　the　Indian　on　the　tomb　at　Ashley

Grange；　and　felt　a　slight　flash　of　satisfaction　over　the　superior

height　and　bearing　of　Gray　Eagle。



〃How！〃　said　Gray　Eagle。　　〃How！〃　said　the　other　four　chiefs。　　〃How！〃

repeated　Peter　instinctively。　　At　a　gesture　from　Gray　Eagle　the

interpreter　said：　〃Let　your　friend　stand　back；　Gray　Eagle　has

nothing　to　say　to　him。　　He　wishes　to　speak　only　with　you。〃



Peter's　friend　reluctantly　withdrew；　but　threw　a　cautioning　glance

towards　him。　　〃Ugh！〃　said　Gray　Eagle。　　〃Ugh！〃　said　the　other

chiefs。　　A　few　guttural　words　followed　to　the　interpreter；　who

turned；　and　facing　Peter　with　the　monotonous　impassiveness　which　he

had　caught　from　the　chiefs；　said：　〃He　says　he　knew　your　father。　　He

was　a　great　chief；wit