a sappho of green springs- 第7部分

grip　of　my　arm　thar；〃　curving　his　wrist　and　hand　behind　him　like　a

shepherd's　crook；　〃I'll　go　first；　and　break　away　the　brush　for　ye。〃



She　obeyed　mechanically；　and　they　fared　on　through　the　thick　ferns

in　this　fashion　for　some　moments；　he　looking　ahead；　occasionally

dropping　a　word　of　caution　or　encouragement；　but　never　glancing　at

her　face。　　When　they　reached　the　buggy　he　lifted　her　into　it

carefully；and　perpendicularly；　it　struck　her　afterwards；　very

much　as　if　she　had　been　a　transplanted　sapling　with　bared　and

sensitive　roots；and　then　gravely　took　his　place　beside　her。



〃Bein'　in　the　timber　trade　myself；　ma'am；〃　he　said；　gathering　up

the　reins；　〃I　chanced　to　sight　these　woods；　and　took　a　look　around。

My　name　is　Bowers；　of　Mendocino；　I　reckon　there　ain't　much　that

grows　in　the　way　o'　standin'　timber　on　the　Pacific　Slope　that　I

don't　know　and　can't　locate；　though　I　DO　say　it。　　I've　got　ez　big　a

mill；　and　ez　big　a　run　in　my　district；　ez　there　is　anywhere。　　Ef

you're　ever　up　my　way；　you　ask　for　BowersJim　Bowersand　that's

ME。〃



There　is　probably　nothing　more　conducive　to　conversation　between

strangers　than　a　wholesome　and　early　recognition　of　each　other's

foibles。　　Mr。　Bowers；　believing　his　chance　acquaintance　a　superior

woman；　naively　spoke　of　himself　in　a　way　that　he　hoped　would

reassure　her　that　she　was　not　compromising　herself　in　accepting　his

civility；　and　so　satisfy　what　must　be　her　inevitable　pride。　　On　the

other　hand；　the　woman　regained　her　self…possession　by　this

exhibition　of　Mr。　Bowers's　vanity；　and；　revived　by　the　refreshing

breeze　caused　by　the　rapid　motion　of　the　buggy　along　the　road；

thanked　him　graciously。



〃I　suppose　there　are　many　strangers　at　the　Green　Springs　Hotel；〃

she　said；　after　a　pause。



〃I　didn't　get　to　see　'em；　as　I　only　put　up　my　hoss　there；〃　he

replied。　　〃But　I　know　the　stage　took　some　away　this　mornin'：　it

seemed　pretty　well　loaded　up　when　I　passed　it。〃



The　woman　drew　a　deep　sigh。　　The　act　struck　Mr。　Bowers　as　a

possible　return　of　her　former　nervous　weakness。　　Her　attention　must

at　once　be　distracted　at　any　costeven　conversation。



〃Perhaps；〃　he　began；　with　sudden　and　appalling　lightness；　〃I'm

a…talkin'　to　Mrs。　McFadden？〃



〃No；〃　said　the　woman；　abstractedly。



〃Then　it　must　be　Mrs。　Delatour？　　There　are　only　two　township　lots

on　that　crossroad。〃



〃My　name　IS　Delatour；〃　she　said；　somewhat　wearily。



Mr。　Bowers　was　conversationally　stranded。　　He　was　not　at　all

anxious　to　know　her　name；　yet；　knowing　it　now；　it　seemed　to　suggest

that　there　was　nothing　more　to　say。　　He　would；　of　course；　have

preferred　to　ask　her　if　she　had　read　the　poetry　about　the

Underbrush；　and　if　she　knew　the　poetess；　and　what　she　thought　of

it；　but　the　fact　that　she　appeared　to　be　an　〃eddicated〃　woman　made

him　sensitive　of　displaying　technical　ignorance　in　his　manner　of

talking　about　it。　　She　might　ask　him　if　it　was　〃subjective　or

〃objective〃two　words　he　had　heard　used　at　the　Debating　Society　at

Mendocino　on　the　question；　〃Is　poetry　morally　beneficial？〃　　For　a

few　moments　he　was　silent。　　But　presently　she　took　the　initiative

in　conversation；　at　first　slowly　and　abstractedly；　and　then；　as　if

appreciating　his　sympathetic　reticence；　or　mayhap　finding　some

relief　in　monotonous　expression；　talked　mechanically；　deliberately；

but　unostentatiously　about　herself。　　So　colorless　was　her

intonation　that　at　times　it　did　not　seem　as　if　she　was　talking　to

him；　but　repeating　some　conversation　she　had　held　with　another。



She　had　lived　there　ever　since　she　had　been　in　California。　　Her

husband　had　bought　the　Spanish　title　to　the　property　when　they

first　married。　　The　property　at　his　death　was　found　to　be　greatly

involved；　she　had　been　obliged　to　part　with　much　of　it　to　support

her　childrenfour　girls　and　a　boy。　　She　had　been　compelled　to

withdraw　the　girls　from　the　convent　at　Santa　Clara　to　help　about

the　house；　the　boy　was　too　youngshe　feared；　too　shiftlessto　do

anything。　　The　farm　did　not　pay；　the　land　was　poor；　she　knew

nothing　about　farming；　she　had　been　brought　up　in　New　Orleans；

where　her　father　had　been　a　judge；　and　she　didn't　understand

country　life。　　Of　course　she　had　been　married　too　youngas　all

girls　were。　　Lately　she　had　thought　of　selling　off　and　moving　to

San　Francisco；　where　she　would　open　a　boarding…house　or　a　school

for　young　ladies。　　He　could　advise　her；　perhaps；　of　some　good

opportunity。　　Her　own　girls　were　far　enough　advanced　to　assist　her

in　teaching；　one　particularly；　Cynthia；　was　quite　clever；　and　spoke

French　and　Spanish　fluently。



As　Mr。　Bowers　was　familiar　with　many　of　these　counts　in　the

feminine　American　indictment　of　life　generally；　he　was　not　perhaps

greatly　moved。　　But　in　the　last　sentence　he　thought　he　saw　an

opening　to　return　to　his　main　object；　and；　looking　up　cautiously；

said：



〃And　mebbe　write　po'try　now　and　then？〃　　To　his　great　discomfiture；

the　only　effect　of　this　suggestion　was　to　check　his　companion's

speech　for　some　moments　and　apparently　throw　her　back　into　her

former　abstraction。　　Yet；　after　a　long　pause；　as　they　were　turning

into　the　lane；　she　said；　as　if　continuing　the　subject：



〃I　only　hope　that；　whatever　my　daughters　may　do；　they　won't　marry

young。〃



The　yawning　breaches　in　the　Delatour　gates　and　fences　presently

came　in　view。　　They　were　supposed　to　be　reinforced　by　half　a　dozen

dogs；　who；　however；　did　their　duty　with　what　would　seem　to　be　the

prevailing　inefficiency；　retiring　after　a　single　perfunctory　yelp

to　shameless　stretching；　scratching；　and　slumber。　　Their　places

were　taken　on　the　veranda　by　two　negro　servants；　two　girls

respectively　of　eight　and　eleven；　and　a　boy　of　fourteen；　who

remained　silently　staring。　　As　Mr。　Bowers　had　accepted　the　widow's

polite　invitation　to　enter；　she　was　compelled；　albeit　in　an　equally

dazed　and　helpless　way；　to　issue　some　preliminary　orders：



〃Now；　ChloeI　mean　aunt　Dinahdo　take　EuniceI　mean　Victorine

and　Unaaway；　andyou　knowtidy　them；　and　you；　Sarahit's

Sarah；　isn't　it？lay　some　refreshment　in　the　parlor　for　this

gentleman。　　And；　Bob；　tell　your　sister　Cynthia　to　come　here　with

Eunice。〃　　As　Bob　still　remained　staring　at　Mr。　Bowers；　she　added；

in　weary　explanation；　〃Mr。　Bowers　brought　me　over　from　the　Summit

woods　in　his　buggyit　was　so　hot。　　Thereshake　hands　and　thank

him；　and　run　awaydo！〃



They　crossed　a　broad　but　scantily…furnished　hall。　　Everywhere　the

same　look　of　hopeless　incompleteness；　temporary　utility；　and

premature　decay；　most　of　the　furniture　was　mismatched　and

misplaced；　many　of　the　rooms　had　changed　their　original　functions

or　doubled　them；　a　smell　of　cooking　came　from　the　library；　on　whose

shelves；　mingled　with　books；　were　dresses　and　household　linen；　and

through　the　door　of　a　room　into　which　Mrs。　Delatour　retired　to

remove　her　duster　Mr。　Bowers　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　bed；　and　of　a

table　covered　with　books　and　papers；　at　which　a　tall；　fair　girl　was

writing。　　In　a　few　moments　Mrs。　Delatour　returned；　accompanied　by

this　girl；　and　Eunice；　her　short…lipped　sister。　　Bob；　who　joined

the　party　seated　around　Mr。　Bowers　and　a　table　set　with　cake；　a

decanter；　and　glasses；　completed　the　group。　　Emboldened　by　the

presence　of　the　tall　Cynthia　and　his　glimpse　of　her　previous

literary　attitude；　Mr。　Bowers　resolved　to　make　one　more　attempt。



〃I　suppose　these　yer　young　ladies　sometimes　go　to　the　wood；　too？〃

As　his　eye　rested　on　Cynthia；　she　replied：



〃Oh；　yes。〃



〃I　reckon　on　account　of　the　purty　shadows　down　in　the　brush；　and

the　soft　light；　eh？　and　all　that？〃　he　continued；　with　a　playful

manner　but　a　serious　accession　of　color。



〃Why；　the　woods　belong　to　us。　　It's　mar's　property！〃　broke　in

Eunice　with　a　flash　of　teeth。



〃Well；　Lordy；　I　wanter　know！〃　said　Mr。　Bowers；　in　some　astonishment。

〃Why；　that's　right　in　my　line；　too！　　I've　been　sightin'　timber　all

along　here；　and　that's　how　I　dropped　in　on　yer　mar。〃　　Then；　seeing　a

look　of　eagerness　light　up　the　faces　of　Bob　and　Eunice；　he　was

encouraged　to　make　the　most　of　his　opportunity。　　〃Why；　ma'am；〃　he

went　on；　cheerfully；　〃I　reckon　you're　holdin'　that　wood　at　a　pretty

stiff　figger；　now。〃



〃Why？〃　asked　Mrs。　Delatour；　simply。



Mr。　Bowers　delivered　a　wink　at　Bob　and　Eunice；　who　were　still

watching　him　with　anxiety。　　〃Well；　not　on　account　of　the　actool

timber；　for　the　best　of　it　ain't　sound；〃　he　said；　〃but　on　account

of　its　bein'　famous！　　Everybody　that　reads　that　pow'ful　pretty　poem

about　it　in　the　'Excelsior　Magazine'　wants　to　see　it。　　Why；　it

would　pay　the　Green　Springs　hotel…keeper　to　buy　it　up　for　his

customers。　　But　I　s'pose　you　reckon　to　keep　italong　with　the

poetessin　your　famerly？〃



Although　Mr。　Bowers　long　considered　this　speech　as　the　happiest　and

most　brilliant　effort　of　his　life；　its　immediate　effect　was　not；

perhaps；　all　that　could　be　desired。　　The　widow　turned　upon　him　a

restrained　and　darkening　face。　　Cynthia　half　rose　with　an　appealing

〃Oh；　mar！〃　and　Bob　and　Eunice；　having　apparently　pinched　each　other

to　the　last　stage　of　endurance；　retired　precipitately　from　the　room

in　a　prolonged　giggle。



〃I　have　not　yet　thought　of　disposing　of　the　Summit　woods；　Mr。

Bowers；〃　said　Mrs。　Delatour；　coldly；　〃but　if　I　should　do　so；　I　will

consult　you。　　You　must　excuse　the　children；　who　see　so　little

company；　they　are　quite　unmanageable　when　strangers　are　present。

Cynthia；　WILL　you　see　if　the　servants　have　looked　after　Mr。

Bowers's　horse？　　You　know　Bob　is　not　to　be　trusted。〃



There　was　clearly　nothing　else　for　Mr。　Bowers　to　do　but　to　take　his

leave；　which　he　did　respectfully；　if　not　altogether　hopefully。　　But

when　he　had　reached　the　lane；　his　horse　shied　from　the　unwonted

spectacle　of　Bob；　swinging　his　hat；　and　apparently　awaiting　him；

from　the　fork　of　a　wayside　sapling。



〃Hol'　up；　mister。　　Look　here！〃



Mr。　Bowers　pulled　up。　　Bob　dropped　into　the　road；　and；　after　a

backward　glance