章节正文
offended, an' I wouldn't want to--"
"I've not a relative in Utah that I know of. There's no one with
a right to question my actions." She turned smilingly to Venters.
"You will come in, Bern, and Lassiter will come in. We'll eat and
be merry while we may."
"I'm only wonderin' if Tull an' his men'll raise a storm down in
the village," said Lassiter, in his last weakening stand.
"Yes, he'll raise the storm--after he has prayed," replied Jane.
"Come."
She led the way, with the bridle of Lassiter's horse over her
arm. Thev entered a grove and walked down a wide path shaded by
great low-branching cottonwoods. The last rays of the setting sun
sent golden bars through the leaves. The grass was deep and rich,
welcome contrast to sage-tired eyes. Twittering quail darted
across the path, and from a tree-top somewhere a robin sang its
evening song, and on the still air floated the freshness and
murmur of flowing water.
The home of Jane Withersteen stood in a circle of cottonwoods,
and was a flat, long, red-stone structure with a covered court in
the center through which flowed a livelystream of amber-colored
water. In the massive blocks of stone and heavy timbers and solid
doors and shutters showed the hand of a man who had builded
against pillage and time; and in the flowers and mosses lining
the stone-bedded stream, in the bright colors of rugs and
blankets on the court floor, and the cozy corner with hammock and
books and the clean-linened table, showed the grace of a daughter
who lived for happiness and the day at hand.
Jane turned Lassiter's horse loose in the thick grass. "You will
want him to be near you," she said, "or I'd have him taken to the
alfalfa fields." At her call appeared women who began at once to
bustle about, hurrying to and fro, setting the table. Then Jane,
excusing herself, went within.
She passed through a huge low ceiled chamber, like the inside of
a fort, and into a smaller one where a bright wood-fire blazed in
an old open fireplace, and from this into her own room. It had
the same comfort as was manifested in the home-like outer court;
moreover, it was warm and rich in soft hues.
Seldom did Jane Withersteen enter her room without looking into
her mirror. She knew she loved the reflection of that beauty
which since early childhood she had never been allowed to forget.
Her relatives and friends, and later a horde of Mormon and
Gentile suitors, had fanned the flame of natural vanity in her.
So that at twenty-eight she scarcely thought at all of her
wonderful influence for good in the little community where her
father had left her practically its beneficent landlord, but
cared most for the dream and the assurance and the allurement of
her beauty. This time, however, she gazed into her glass with
more than the usual happy motive, without the usual slight
conscious smile. For she was thinking of more than the desire to
be fair in her own eyes, in those of her friend; she wondered if
she were to seem fair in the eyes of this Lassiter, this man
whose name had crossed the long, wild brakes of stone and plains
of sage, this gentle-voiced, sad-faced man who was a hater and a
killer of Mormons. It was not now her usual half-conscious vain
obsession that actuated her as she hurriedly changed her
riding-dress to one of white, and then looked long at the stately
form with its gracious contours, at the fair face with its strong
chin and full firm lips, at the dark-blue, proud, and passionate
eyes.
"If by some means I can keep him here a few days, a week--he will
never kill another Mormon," she mused. "Lassiter!...I shudder
when I think of that name, of him. But when I look at the man I
forget who he is--I almost like him. I remember only that he
saved Bern. He has suffered. I wonder what it was--did he love a
Mormon woman once? How splendidly he championed us poor
misunderstood souls! Somehow he knows--much."
Jane Withersteen joined her guests and bade them to her board.
Dismissing her woman, she waited upon them with her own hands. It
was a bountiful supper and a strange company. On her right sat
the ragged and half-starved Venters; and though blind eyes could
have seen what he counted for in the sum of her happiness, yet he
looked the gloomy outcast his allegiance had made him, and about
him there was the shadow of the ruin presaged by Tull. On her
left sat black-leather-garbed Lassiter looking like a man in a
dream. Hunger was not with him, nor composure, nor speech, and
when he twisted in frequent unquiet movements the heavy guns that
he had not removed knocked against the table-legs. If it had been
otherwise possible to forget the presence of Lassiter those
telling little jars would have rendered it unlikely. And Jane
Withersteen talked and smiled and laughed with all the dazzling
play of lips and eyes that a beautiful, daring woman could summon
to her purpose.
When the meal ended, and the men pushed back their chairs, she
leaned closer to Lassiter and looked square into his eyes.
"Why did you come to Cottonwoods?"
Her question seemed to break a spell. The rider arose as if he
had just remembered himself and had tarried longer than his wont.
"Ma'am, I have hunted all over the southern Utah and Nevada for--
somethin'. An' through your name I learned where to find it--here
in Cottonwoods."
"My name! Oh, I remember. You did know my name when you spoke
first. Well, tell me where you heard it and from whom?"
"At the little village--Glaze, I think it's called--some fifty
miles or more west of here. An' I heard it from a Gentile, a
rider who said you'd know where to tell me to find--"
"What?" she demanded, imperiously, as Lassiter broke off.
"Milly Erne's grave," he answered low, and the words came with a
wrench.
Venters wheeled in his chair to regard Lassiter in amazement, and
Jane slowly raised herself in white, still wonder.
"Milly Erne's grave?" she echoed, in a whisper. "What do you know
of Milly Erne, my best-beloved friend--who died in my arms? What
were you to her?"
"Did I claim to be anythin'?" he inquired. "I know
people--relatives-- who have long wanted to know where she's
buried, that's all."
"Relatives? She never spoke of relatives, except a brother who
was shot in Texas. Lassiter, Milly Erne's grave is in a secret
burying-ground on my property."
"Will you take me there?...You'll be offendin' Mormons worse than
by breakin' bread with me."
"Indeed yes, but I'll do it. Only we must go unseen. To-morrow,
perhaps."
"Thank you, Jane Withersteen," replied the rider, and he bowed to
her and stepped backward out of the court.
"Will you not stay--sleep under my roof?" she asked.
"No, ma'am, an' thanks again. I never sleep indoors. An' even if
I did there's that gatherin' storm in the village below. No, no.
I'll go to the sage. I hope you won't suffer none for your
kindness to me."
"Lassiter," said Venters, with a half-bitter laugh, "my bed too,
is the sage. Perhaps we may meet out there."
"Mebbe so. But the sage is wide an' I won't be near. Good night."
At Lassiter's low whistle the black horse whinnied, and carefully
picked his blind way out of the grove. The rider did not bridle
him, but walked beside him, leading him by touch of hand and
together they passed slowly into the shade of the cottonwoods.
"Jane, I must be off soon," said Venters. "Give me my guns. If
I'd had my guns--"
"Either my friend or the Elder of my church would be lying dead,"
she interposed
"Tull would be--surely."
"Oh, you fierce-blooded, savage youth! Can't I teach you
forebearance, mercy? Bern, it's divine to forgive your enemies.
'Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath.'"
"Hush! Talk to me no more of mercy or religion--after to-day.
To-day this strange coming of Lassiter left me still a man, and
now I'll die a man!...Give me my guns."
Silently she went into the house, to return with a heavy
cartridge-belt and gun-filled sheath and a long ride; these she
handed to him, and as he buckled on the belt she stood before him
in silent eloquence.
"Jane," he said, in gentler voice, "don't look so. I'm not going
out to murder your churchman. I'll try to avoid him and all his
men. But can't you see I've reached the end of my rope? Jane,
you're a wonderful woman. Never was there a woman so unselfish
and good. Only you're blind in one way....Listen!"
From behind the grove came the clicking sound of horses in a
rapid trot.
"Some of your riders," he continued. "It's getting time for the
night shift. Let us go out to the bench in the grove and talk
there."
It was still daylight in the open, but under the spreading
cottonwoods shadows were obscuring the lanes. Venters drew Jane
off from one of these into a shrub-lined trail, just wide enough
for the two to walk abreast, and in a roundabout way led her far
from the house to a knoll on the edge of the grove. Here in a
secluded nook was a bench from which, through an opening in the
tree-tops, could be seen the sage-slope and the wall of rock and
the dim lines of canyons. Jane had not spoken since Venters had
shocked her with his first harsh speech; but all the way she had
clung to his arm, and now, as he stopped and laid his rifle
against the bench, she still clung to him.
"Jane, I'm afraid I must leave you."
"Bern!" she cried.
"Yes, it looks that way. My position is not a happy one--I can't
feel right--I've lost all--"
"I'll give you anything you--"
"Listen, please. When I say loss I don't mean what you think. I
mean loss of good-will, good name--that which would have enabled
me to stand up in this village without bitterness. Well, it's too
late....Now, as to the future, I think you'd do best to give me
up. Tull is implacable. You ought to see from his intention
to-day that--But you can't see. Your blindness--your damned
religion!...Jane, forgive me--I'm sore within and something
rankles. Well, I fear that invisible hand will turn its hidden
work to your ruin."
"Invisible hand? Bern!"
"I mean your Bishop." Venters said it deliberately and would not
release her as she started back. "He's the law. The edict went
forth to ruin me. Well, look at me! It'll now go forth to compel
you to the will of the Church."
"You wrong Bishop Dyer. Tull is hard, I know. But then he has
been in love with me for years."
"Oh, your faith and your excuses! You can't see what I know--and
if you did see it you'd not admit it to save your life. That's
the Mormon of you. These elders and bishops will do absolutely
any deed to go on building up the power and wealth of their
church, their empire. Think of what they've done to the Gentiles
here, to me--think of Milly Erne's fate!"
"What do you know of her story?"
"I know enough--all, perhaps, except the name of the Mormon who
brought her here. But I must stop this kind of talk."
She pressed his hand in response. He helped her to a seat beside
him on the bench. And he respected a silence that he divined was
full of woman's deep emotion beyond his understanding.
It was the moment when the last ruddy rays of the sunset
brightened momentarily before yielding to twilight. And for
Venters the outlook before him was in some sense similar to a
feeling of his future, and with searching eyes he studied the
beautiful purple, barren waste of sage. Here was the unknown and
"I've not a relative in Utah that I know of. There's no one with
a right to question my actions." She turned smilingly to Venters.
"You will come in, Bern, and Lassiter will come in. We'll eat and
be merry while we may."
"I'm only wonderin' if Tull an' his men'll raise a storm down in
the village," said Lassiter, in his last weakening stand.
"Yes, he'll raise the storm--after he has prayed," replied Jane.
"Come."
She led the way, with the bridle of Lassiter's horse over her
arm. Thev entered a grove and walked down a wide path shaded by
great low-branching cottonwoods. The last rays of the setting sun
sent golden bars through the leaves. The grass was deep and rich,
welcome contrast to sage-tired eyes. Twittering quail darted
across the path, and from a tree-top somewhere a robin sang its
evening song, and on the still air floated the freshness and
murmur of flowing water.
The home of Jane Withersteen stood in a circle of cottonwoods,
and was a flat, long, red-stone structure with a covered court in
the center through which flowed a livelystream of amber-colored
water. In the massive blocks of stone and heavy timbers and solid
doors and shutters showed the hand of a man who had builded
against pillage and time; and in the flowers and mosses lining
the stone-bedded stream, in the bright colors of rugs and
blankets on the court floor, and the cozy corner with hammock and
books and the clean-linened table, showed the grace of a daughter
who lived for happiness and the day at hand.
Jane turned Lassiter's horse loose in the thick grass. "You will
want him to be near you," she said, "or I'd have him taken to the
alfalfa fields." At her call appeared women who began at once to
bustle about, hurrying to and fro, setting the table. Then Jane,
excusing herself, went within.
She passed through a huge low ceiled chamber, like the inside of
a fort, and into a smaller one where a bright wood-fire blazed in
an old open fireplace, and from this into her own room. It had
the same comfort as was manifested in the home-like outer court;
moreover, it was warm and rich in soft hues.
Seldom did Jane Withersteen enter her room without looking into
her mirror. She knew she loved the reflection of that beauty
which since early childhood she had never been allowed to forget.
Her relatives and friends, and later a horde of Mormon and
Gentile suitors, had fanned the flame of natural vanity in her.
So that at twenty-eight she scarcely thought at all of her
wonderful influence for good in the little community where her
father had left her practically its beneficent landlord, but
cared most for the dream and the assurance and the allurement of
her beauty. This time, however, she gazed into her glass with
more than the usual happy motive, without the usual slight
conscious smile. For she was thinking of more than the desire to
be fair in her own eyes, in those of her friend; she wondered if
she were to seem fair in the eyes of this Lassiter, this man
whose name had crossed the long, wild brakes of stone and plains
of sage, this gentle-voiced, sad-faced man who was a hater and a
killer of Mormons. It was not now her usual half-conscious vain
obsession that actuated her as she hurriedly changed her
riding-dress to one of white, and then looked long at the stately
form with its gracious contours, at the fair face with its strong
chin and full firm lips, at the dark-blue, proud, and passionate
eyes.
"If by some means I can keep him here a few days, a week--he will
never kill another Mormon," she mused. "Lassiter!...I shudder
when I think of that name, of him. But when I look at the man I
forget who he is--I almost like him. I remember only that he
saved Bern. He has suffered. I wonder what it was--did he love a
Mormon woman once? How splendidly he championed us poor
misunderstood souls! Somehow he knows--much."
Jane Withersteen joined her guests and bade them to her board.
Dismissing her woman, she waited upon them with her own hands. It
was a bountiful supper and a strange company. On her right sat
the ragged and half-starved Venters; and though blind eyes could
have seen what he counted for in the sum of her happiness, yet he
looked the gloomy outcast his allegiance had made him, and about
him there was the shadow of the ruin presaged by Tull. On her
left sat black-leather-garbed Lassiter looking like a man in a
dream. Hunger was not with him, nor composure, nor speech, and
when he twisted in frequent unquiet movements the heavy guns that
he had not removed knocked against the table-legs. If it had been
otherwise possible to forget the presence of Lassiter those
telling little jars would have rendered it unlikely. And Jane
Withersteen talked and smiled and laughed with all the dazzling
play of lips and eyes that a beautiful, daring woman could summon
to her purpose.
When the meal ended, and the men pushed back their chairs, she
leaned closer to Lassiter and looked square into his eyes.
"Why did you come to Cottonwoods?"
Her question seemed to break a spell. The rider arose as if he
had just remembered himself and had tarried longer than his wont.
"Ma'am, I have hunted all over the southern Utah and Nevada for--
somethin'. An' through your name I learned where to find it--here
in Cottonwoods."
"My name! Oh, I remember. You did know my name when you spoke
first. Well, tell me where you heard it and from whom?"
"At the little village--Glaze, I think it's called--some fifty
miles or more west of here. An' I heard it from a Gentile, a
rider who said you'd know where to tell me to find--"
"What?" she demanded, imperiously, as Lassiter broke off.
"Milly Erne's grave," he answered low, and the words came with a
wrench.
Venters wheeled in his chair to regard Lassiter in amazement, and
Jane slowly raised herself in white, still wonder.
"Milly Erne's grave?" she echoed, in a whisper. "What do you know
of Milly Erne, my best-beloved friend--who died in my arms? What
were you to her?"
"Did I claim to be anythin'?" he inquired. "I know
people--relatives-- who have long wanted to know where she's
buried, that's all."
"Relatives? She never spoke of relatives, except a brother who
was shot in Texas. Lassiter, Milly Erne's grave is in a secret
burying-ground on my property."
"Will you take me there?...You'll be offendin' Mormons worse than
by breakin' bread with me."
"Indeed yes, but I'll do it. Only we must go unseen. To-morrow,
perhaps."
"Thank you, Jane Withersteen," replied the rider, and he bowed to
her and stepped backward out of the court.
"Will you not stay--sleep under my roof?" she asked.
"No, ma'am, an' thanks again. I never sleep indoors. An' even if
I did there's that gatherin' storm in the village below. No, no.
I'll go to the sage. I hope you won't suffer none for your
kindness to me."
"Lassiter," said Venters, with a half-bitter laugh, "my bed too,
is the sage. Perhaps we may meet out there."
"Mebbe so. But the sage is wide an' I won't be near. Good night."
At Lassiter's low whistle the black horse whinnied, and carefully
picked his blind way out of the grove. The rider did not bridle
him, but walked beside him, leading him by touch of hand and
together they passed slowly into the shade of the cottonwoods.
"Jane, I must be off soon," said Venters. "Give me my guns. If
I'd had my guns--"
"Either my friend or the Elder of my church would be lying dead,"
she interposed
"Tull would be--surely."
"Oh, you fierce-blooded, savage youth! Can't I teach you
forebearance, mercy? Bern, it's divine to forgive your enemies.
'Let not the sun go down upon thy wrath.'"
"Hush! Talk to me no more of mercy or religion--after to-day.
To-day this strange coming of Lassiter left me still a man, and
now I'll die a man!...Give me my guns."
Silently she went into the house, to return with a heavy
cartridge-belt and gun-filled sheath and a long ride; these she
handed to him, and as he buckled on the belt she stood before him
in silent eloquence.
"Jane," he said, in gentler voice, "don't look so. I'm not going
out to murder your churchman. I'll try to avoid him and all his
men. But can't you see I've reached the end of my rope? Jane,
you're a wonderful woman. Never was there a woman so unselfish
and good. Only you're blind in one way....Listen!"
From behind the grove came the clicking sound of horses in a
rapid trot.
"Some of your riders," he continued. "It's getting time for the
night shift. Let us go out to the bench in the grove and talk
there."
It was still daylight in the open, but under the spreading
cottonwoods shadows were obscuring the lanes. Venters drew Jane
off from one of these into a shrub-lined trail, just wide enough
for the two to walk abreast, and in a roundabout way led her far
from the house to a knoll on the edge of the grove. Here in a
secluded nook was a bench from which, through an opening in the
tree-tops, could be seen the sage-slope and the wall of rock and
the dim lines of canyons. Jane had not spoken since Venters had
shocked her with his first harsh speech; but all the way she had
clung to his arm, and now, as he stopped and laid his rifle
against the bench, she still clung to him.
"Jane, I'm afraid I must leave you."
"Bern!" she cried.
"Yes, it looks that way. My position is not a happy one--I can't
feel right--I've lost all--"
"I'll give you anything you--"
"Listen, please. When I say loss I don't mean what you think. I
mean loss of good-will, good name--that which would have enabled
me to stand up in this village without bitterness. Well, it's too
late....Now, as to the future, I think you'd do best to give me
up. Tull is implacable. You ought to see from his intention
to-day that--But you can't see. Your blindness--your damned
religion!...Jane, forgive me--I'm sore within and something
rankles. Well, I fear that invisible hand will turn its hidden
work to your ruin."
"Invisible hand? Bern!"
"I mean your Bishop." Venters said it deliberately and would not
release her as she started back. "He's the law. The edict went
forth to ruin me. Well, look at me! It'll now go forth to compel
you to the will of the Church."
"You wrong Bishop Dyer. Tull is hard, I know. But then he has
been in love with me for years."
"Oh, your faith and your excuses! You can't see what I know--and
if you did see it you'd not admit it to save your life. That's
the Mormon of you. These elders and bishops will do absolutely
any deed to go on building up the power and wealth of their
church, their empire. Think of what they've done to the Gentiles
here, to me--think of Milly Erne's fate!"
"What do you know of her story?"
"I know enough--all, perhaps, except the name of the Mormon who
brought her here. But I must stop this kind of talk."
She pressed his hand in response. He helped her to a seat beside
him on the bench. And he respected a silence that he divined was
full of woman's deep emotion beyond his understanding.
It was the moment when the last ruddy rays of the sunset
brightened momentarily before yielding to twilight. And for
Venters the outlook before him was in some sense similar to a
feeling of his future, and with searching eyes he studied the
beautiful purple, barren waste of sage. Here was the unknown and
- relative [´relətiv]
a.有关系的 n.亲属 (初中英语单词) - contrast [´kɔntrɑ:st] n.对比 v.使对比(照) (初中英语单词)
- circle [´sə:kəl] n.圆圈 v.环绕；盘旋 (初中英语单词)
- structure [´strʌktʃə] n.结构，构造；组织 (初中英语单词)
- lively [´laivli] a.活泼的；热烈的 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- reflection [ri´flekʃən] n.反射；映象；想法 (初中英语单词)
- childhood [´tʃaildhud] n.幼年(时代)；早期 (初中英语单词)
- vanity [´væniti] n.虚荣；自负；空虚 (初中英语单词)
- landlord [´lændlɔ:d] n.地主；房东；店主 (初中英语单词)
- motive [´məutiv] n.动机；主题 a.运动的 (初中英语单词)
- gracious [´greiʃəs] a.和蔼可亲的；任慈的 (初中英语单词)
- hunger [´hʌŋgə] n.饥饿；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- frequent [´fri:kwənt] a.常见的，频繁的 (初中英语单词)
- amazement [ə´meizmənt] n.惊愕；惊奇 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- backward [´bækwəd] ad.向后 a.向后的 (初中英语单词)
- whistle [´wisəl] v.吹哨 n.口哨；汽笛 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- divine [di´vain] a.神圣的 v.预言 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
- opening [´əupəniŋ] n.开放；开端 a.开始的 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- invisible [in´vizəbəl] a.看不见的；无形的 (初中英语单词)
- bishop [´biʃəp] n.主教 (初中英语单词)
- wealth [welθ] n.财富，财产 (初中英语单词)
- emotion [i´məuʃən] n.感情；情绪；激动 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- purple [´pə:pl] n.紫色 a.紫(红)的 (初中英语单词)
- barren [´bærən] a.贫瘠的；不生育的 (初中英语单词)
- bridle [´braidl] n.(马)笼头；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- massive [´mæsiv] a.厚实的；魁伟的 (高中英语单词)
- chamber [´tʃeimbə] n.房间；议院；会议室 (高中英语单词)
- fireplace [´faiəpleis] n.壁炉，炉灶 (高中英语单词)
- community [kə´mju:niti] n.团体；社区；公众 (高中英语单词)
- assurance [ə´ʃuərəns] n.保证；自信；信任 (高中英语单词)
- ragged [´rægid] a.衣服破烂的 (高中英语单词)
- gloomy [´glu:mi] a.昏暗的；忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- allegiance [ə´li:dʒəns] n.忠诚，效忠 (高中英语单词)
- nevada [ne´vɑ:də] n.内华达 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- unseen [,ʌn´si:n] a.未看见的 (高中英语单词)
- indoors [,in´dɔ:z] ad.在屋里 (高中英语单词)
- abreast [ə´brest] ad.并排，并肩 (高中英语单词)
- bitterness [´bitənis] n.苦味；辛酸；苦难 (高中英语单词)
- deliberately [di´libərətli] ad.故意地；慎重地 (高中英语单词)
- response [ri´spɔns] n.回答；响应 (高中英语单词)
- studied [´stʌdid] a.故意的；有计划的 (高中英语单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- freshness [´freʃnis] n.新鲜 (英语四级单词)
- hammock [´hæmək] n.吊床；圆丘 (英语四级单词)
- hurriedly [´hʌridli] ad.仓促地，忙乱地 (英语四级单词)
- composure [kəm´pəuʒə] n.镇静，沉着 (英语四级单词)
- daring [´deəriŋ] a.&n.勇敢(的) (英语四级单词)
- sheath [ʃi:θ] n.鞘，壳，套 (英语四级单词)
- churchman [´tʃə:tʃmən] n.教士；牧师；国教教徒 (英语四级单词)
- outlook [´autluk] n.眺望；景色；展望 (英语四级单词)
- allurement [ə´ljuəmənt] n.诱惑物；魅力 (英语六级单词)
- splendidly [´splendidli] ad.光彩夺目地；辉煌地 (英语六级单词)
- unlikely [ʌn´laikli] a.不像的；未必可能的 (英语六级单词)
- roundabout [´raundəbaut] a.&n.间接的(方式) (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
