第 17 节
作者:铲除不公      更新:2021-02-20 17:29      字数:9322
  her late restraint had won from Low。            They had treated her like a child or
  a crazy woman; perhaps even now were exchanging criticisms upon her
  perhaps pitying her!         Yet she had   prevented a   quarrel;   a   fight;   possibly
  the   death   of   either   one   or   the   other   of   these   men   who   despised   her;   for
  none better knew than she the trivial beginning and desperate end of these
  encounters。       Would   theywould   Low   ever   realize   it;   and   forgive   her?
  Her small; dark hands went up to her eyes and she sank upon the ground。
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  She looked through tear…veiled lashes upon the mute and giant witnesses
  of her deceit and passion; and tried to draw; from their immovable calm;
  strength and consolation as before。           But even they seemed to stand apart;
  reserved and forbidding。
  When   Low   returned   she   hoped   to   gather   from   his   eyes   and   manner
  what had passed between him and her former lover。                   But beyond a mere
  gentle   abstraction   at   times   he   retained   his   usual   calm。 She   was   at   last
  forced to allude to it herself with simulated recklessness。
  〃I suppose I didn't get a very good character from my last place?〃 she
  said; with a laugh。
  〃I don't understand you;〃 he replied; in evident sincerity。
  She bit her lip and was silent。         But as they were returning home; she
  said gently; 〃I hope you were not angry with me for the lie I told when I
  spoke   of   'your   plan。'  I   could   not   give   the   real   reason   for   not   returning
  withwiththat man。        But it's not all a lie。    I have a planif you haven't。
  When you are ready to go to Sacramento to take your place; dress me as
  an Indian boy; paint my face; and let me go with you。                You can leave me…
  …there you know。〃
  〃It's not a bad idea;〃 he responded gravely。           〃We will see。〃
  On the next day; and the next; the rencontre seemed to be forgotten。
  The   herbarium   was   already   filled   with   rare   specimens。   Teresa   had   even
  overcome her feminine repugnance to 〃bugs〃 and creeping things so far as
  to   assist   in   his   entomological   collection。   He   had   drawn   from   a   sacred
  cache in the hollow of a tree the few worn text…books from which he had
  studied。
  〃They seem very precious;〃 she said; with a smile。
  〃Very;〃 he replied gravely。         〃There was one with plates that the ants
  ate up; and it will be six months before I can afford to buy another。〃
  Teresa    glanced     hurriedly   over   his   well…worn     buckskin     suit;  at  his
  calico shirt with its pattern almost obliterated by countless washings; and
  became thoughtful。
  〃I   suppose     you    couldn't    buy    one   at   Indian    Spring?〃     she   said
  innocently。
  For   once   Low   was   startled   out   of   his   phlegm。  〃Indian   Spring!〃   he
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  ejaculated;   〃perhaps   not   even   in   San   Francisco。       These   came   from   the
  States。〃
  〃How did you get them?〃 persisted Teresa。
  〃I bought them for skins I got over the ridge。〃
  〃I   didn't   mean    thatbut    no   matter。    Then     you   mean     to  sell  that
  bearskin; don't you?〃 she added。
  Low had; in fact; already sold it; the proceeds having been invested in
  a gold ring for Miss Nellie; which she scrupulously did not wear except in
  his    presence。      In    his  singular     truthfulness     he   would     have    frankly
  confessed   it   to   Teresa;   but   the   secret   was   not   his   own。  He   contented
  himself with saying that he had disposed of it at Indian Spring。
  Teresa      started;   and    communicated         unconsciously        some     of   her
  nervousness to her companion。              They gazed in each other's eyes with a
  troubled expression。
  〃Do you think it was wise to sell that particular skin; which might be
  identified?〃 she asked timidly。
  Low     knitted    his  arched    brows;    but   felt  a  strange    sense   of  relief。
  〃Perhaps not;〃 he said carelessly; 〃but it's too late now to mend matters。〃
  That   afternoon   she   wrote   several   letters;   and   tore   them   up。      One;
  however;   she   retained;   and   handed   it   to   Low   to   post   at   Indian   Spring;
  whither   he   was   going。      She   called   his   attention   to   the   superscription;
  being   the   same   as   the   previous   letter;   and   added;   with   affected   gayety;
  〃But if the answer isn't as prompt; perhaps it will be pleasanter than the
  last。〃    Her quick feminine eye   noticed a little   excitement in his   manner
  and a more studious attention to his dress。               Only a few days before she
  would not have allowed this to pass without some mischievous allusion to
  his   mysterious   sweetheart;   it   troubled   her   greatly   now   to   find   that   she
  could     not  bring    herself   to  this  household     pleasantry;    and    that  her   lip
  trembled and her eye grew moist as he parted from her。
  The afternoon passed slowly; he had said he might not return to supper
  until late; nevertheless a strange restlessness took possession of her as the
  day wore on。        She put aside her work; the darning of his stockings; and
  rambled aimlessly through the woods。                She had wandered she knew not
  how far;  when   she   was suddenly  seized   with  the same   vague sense of   a
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  foreign   presence   which   she   had   felt   before。     Could   it   be   Curson   again;
  with a word of warning?            No! she knew it was not he; so subtle had her
  sense become that she even fancied that she detected in the invisible aura
  projected   by  the   unknown   no   significance   or   relation   to   herself   or   Low;
  and felt no fear。      Nevertheless she deemed it wisest to seek the protection
  of her sylvan bower; and hurried swiftly thither。
  But not so quickly nor directly that she did not once or twice pause in
  her flight   to examine  the new…comer  from behind   a friendly  trunk。                  He
  was   a   strangera   young   fellow   with   a   brown   mustache;   wearing   heavy
  Mexican   spurs   in   his   riding…boots;   whose   tinkling   he   apparently  did   not
  care to conceal。       He had perceived her; and was evidently pursuing her;
  but so awkwardly and timidly that she eluded him with ease。                      When she
  had reached the security of the hollow tree and pulled the curtain of bark
  before the narrow opening; with her eye to the interstices; she waited his
  coming。      He arrived breathlessly in the open space before the tree where
  the bear once lay; the dazed; bewildered; and half… awed expression of his
  face;   as   he   glanced   around   him   and   through   the   openings   of   the   forest
  aisles; brought a faint smile to her saddened face。                At last he called in a
  half…embarrassed voice:
  〃Miss Nellie!〃
  The smile faded from Teresa's cheek。              Who was 〃Miss Nellie?〃            She
  pressed her ear to the opening。           〃Miss Wynn!〃 the voice again called; but
  was     lost  in   the   echoless    woods。      Devoured       with    a  new    gratuitous
  curiosity; in another moment Teresa felt she would have disclosed herself
  at   any   risk;   but   the   stranger   rose   and   began   to   retrace   his   steps。 Long
  after his   tinkling   spurs   were  lost   in   the   distance; Teresa   remained   like   a
  statue; staring at the place where he had stood。              Then she suddenly turned
  like   a   mad   woman;   glanced   down   at   the   gown   she   was   wearing;   tore   it
  from her back as if it had been a polluted garment; and stamped upon it in
  a   convulsion   of   rage。    And   then;   with   her   beautiful   bare   arms   clasped
  together over her head; she threw herself upon her couch in a tempest of
  tears。
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  CHAPTER VI
  When Miss Nellie reached the first mining extension of Indian Spring;
  which surrounded it like a fosse; she descended for one instant into one of
  its   trenches;   opened     her   parasol;   removed      her  duster;   hid   it  under   a
  bowlder; and with a few shivers and cat… like strokes of her soft hands not
  only obliterated all mate