The Heritage of Dedlow Marsh and Other TalesHarte, Bret
General
The Heritage of Dedlow Marsh and Other Tales
Harte, Bret
California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Western stories
"And, I trust, sometimes a kind friend," he suggested, with a grave bow.
"You TRUST? Look yer, young man," she said, with her quick, fierce,
little laugh, "I reckon you TRUST a heap too much!" She would like to
have added, "with your freckled face, red hair, and little eyes"--but
this would have obliged her to face them again, which she did not care
to do.
Calvert stepped back, lifted his hand to his cap, still pleasantly, and
then walked gravely along the gallery, down the steps, and towards the
cover. From her window, unseen, she followed his neat little figure
moving undeviatingly on, without looking to the left or right, and
still less towards the house he had just quitted. Then she saw the
sunlight flash on cross-belt plates and steel barrels, and a light blue
line issued from out the dark green bushes, round the point, and
disappeared. And then it suddenly occurred to her what she had been
doing! This, then, was her first step towards that fancy she had so
lately conceived, quarrelled over with her brother, and lay awake last
night to place anew, in spite of all opposition! This was her
brilliant idea of dazzling and subduing Logport and the Fort! Had she
grown silly, or what had happened? Could she have dreamed of the
coming of this whipper-snapper, with his insufferable airs, after that
beggarly deserter? I am afraid that for a few moments the miserable
fugitive had as small a place in Maggie's sympathy as the redoubtable
whipper-snapper himself. And now the cherished dream of triumph and
conquest was over! What a "looney" she had been! Instead of inviting
him in, and outdoing him in "company manners," and "fooling" him about
the deserter, and then blazing upon him afterwards at Logport in the
glory of her first spent wealth and finery, she had driven him away!
And now "he'll go and tell--tell the Fort girls of his hairbreadth
escape from the claws of the Kingfisher's daughter!"
The thought brought a few bitter tears to her eyes, but she wiped them
away. The thought brought also the terrible conviction that Jim was
right, that there could be nothing but open antagonism between them and
the traducers of their parents, as she herself had instinctively shown!
But she presently wiped that conviction away also, as she had her tears.
Half an hour later she was attracted by the appearance from the windows
of certain straggling blue spots on the upland that seemed moving
diagonally towards the Marsh. She did not know that it was Calvert's
second "detail" joining him, but believed for a moment that he had not
yet departed, and was strangely relieved. Still later the frequent
disturbed cries of coot, heron, and marsh-hen, recognizing the presence
of unusual invaders of their solitude, distracted her yet more, and
forced her at last with increasing color and an uneasy sense of shyness
to steal out to the gallery for a swift furtive survey of the Marsh.
But an utterly unexpected sight met her eyes, and kept her motionless.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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