Their Mariposa Legend Part 7

"That's really the one place I came to see!" he told her more than once.

"After I've been there I think I can go."

"But we've planned Middle Ranch for today," she would answer evasively, or, "This is the best time to see Orazaba; it's so clear this morning.

That's the mountain, you know, where the Indians carved out their ollas.

Some of them are still there, only half cut away. It would be too bad for you to miss that."

At length, however, there came a day when excuses would do no longer.

"We've waited long enough," he declared that morning over their coffee, "Besides, I may have to go now in a few days."

And although at his words the sunshine of her new world faded suddenly away, yet the little teacher kept a brave front. She even laughed carelessly.

"Men are so impatient," she teased, "But we'll go today."

Nevertheless, it was not until the rose of sunset rested among the hills that at last they found themselves on the crest of the tall cliff which commanded so wide a stretch of the ocean and the shimmering valleys below.

"It reminds one of the Bay of Naples," observed Blair, pausing to scan the rocky coastline against which, far beneath them, the foaming breakers threw themselves. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked far out to sea. "What a wonderful place for a watch tower it would have made!"

"It had one once," softly replied the girl, "Wildenai's watch tower!"

Blair turned, their eyes met, and he smiled.

"It's been splendid to have you with me all these days," he said, "I've been wanting to tell you. You've been more of a help than you'll ever know." And then, after a pause, "It's because you care so much about the story yourself, I suppose, that you've been such an inspiration to me."

Something in the girl's heart seemed suddenly to snap.

"It's because I care more about your work, and--and you. You are so wonderful!" she broke forth impulsively, and stood before him crimson with confusion. For a second, which seemed to her an age, there was silence. Then he spoke and, in her bitter humiliation, his voice sounded strained and cold.

"Shall we go in?" he asked.

Silently he parted the tangle of manzanita that for centuries had veiled the secrets of the princess, and stood aside for her to enter. Wildly the little art teacher glanced about her. This moment to which she had so looked forward, and yet had dreaded as much because it meant the end,--this moment which might, nevertheless, have meant much to them both even though it were the end, she herself had spoiled! All its delicate beauty changed to a sordid suspicion, it lay in ruins now because of her thoughtless words. She dared not guess at what he must be thinking! For a desperate second she considered flight. Then proudly she raised her head. One more thing, at least, about her now he should learn!

"Did you know--?" she began, then broke off irresolute.

Blair glanced at her and again their eyes met. This time he did not smile.

"Know what?" he asked.

She laughed with embarra.s.sment.

"It really isn't of any interest to you, but--" and again she paused.

"Suppose you let me be the judge of that," he suggested stiffly. "You're making me horribly curious, you know. You can't very well drop the subject now." He was evidently making an effort at pleasantry.

She flushed brightly.

"Of course it couldn't be of the slightest importance to anyone except myself," she explained. Then, as if doubting her courage to continue long, she hurried on, "but one reason I take such an interest in--your work is because I'm a direct descendant of Lord Harold myself. He became the Duke of Norfolk afterward, you know, but Hastings was always the family name." She flashed him a haughty glance, a pride that changed to wide-eyed surprise as she noted his amazement.

"Not really?" He had turned abruptly and in his eyes there was a curious expression, almost of alarm. "How extraordinary,--how perfectly extraordinary!"

"Why extraordinary?" That her cup of humiliation might brim to the full, resentment was added to confusion. "You consider me unworthy, then, of having had n.o.bility among my ancestry? But, just the same, there was nothing strange about it. The colonies were chiefly English, you remember!" He smiled at her sarcasm. "The duke married one of Elizabeth's ladies-in-waiting after he went home and there was a younger son, and he had a younger son, and after a long time one of them came over to Virginia just like anybody else. They have always been good, loyal, highly respected American citizens," she told him fiercely, "and I'm proud of them! Besides--" with reckless emphasis, "I've always felt so sorry for Wildenai."

But at this point, quite incomprehensibly, Blair broke into peals of laughter.

"And by and by, after a long, long time, one of these good, loyal, American citizens that we're both so proud of had a hot-tempered, most disloyal little daughter who intends to show her employer his proper place before she dismisses him! But why are you sorry for Wildenai?"

With mischievous eyes he searched her face.

She flushed, then, looking squarely at him, "Because she was impulsive like me, and just for that reason Lord Harold ran away and left her,"

she said. "He's the only one of them I never had any use for."

Blair wandered the length of the cavern and back before he replied.

"You think him a coward, I suppose." He still looked as though he wanted to laugh, yet something in his tone seared her outraged pride. He might as well have touched an iron to quivering flesh. "You ought to remember, however,--I mean every woman ought to remember,--that when a girl lets a man know that she cares for him she generally forfeits, then and there, whatever interest she may have had for him. Wildenai risked too much.

Of course, in her case there was some excuse. She was only an untrained barbarian. But, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, I tell you there's nothing a man despises so much!"

What was done or said after that Miss Hastings never could have told.

She was possessed of but one desire,--to get away, to go back to the hotel,--home, anywhere beyond the reach of his voice and his eyes. For the moment she hated him, and although Blair, conscience smitten at he knew not what, waited in the lobby a full hour before going in to dinner, she did not come down.

Up in her room, mechanically brushing her hair for the night, Miss Hastings stormily addressed the girl in the gla.s.s who stared so scornfully back at her.

"I tell you I don't care a thing about it! He probably thought he was justified in every word he said. He's probably smiling this very minute because he thinks he managed it so well! But he's a coward just the same, and I despise him,--I do despise him!" Her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears, she fiercely repeated the word. "Well, he'll soon find out how much I really meant!"

Over and over she re-lived the short scene,--all of its humiliation, all of its hurt, seeking at every turn solace for her woman's pride.

"Naturally I wanted to help him all I could, to appear, at least, to be interested, especially when he was paying so much for it! It was only a business arrangement anyway," she continued bitterly, "nothing but business from start to finish, and if he doesn't know that yet, he'll find it out the very first thing tomorrow morning!"

And having tumbled into bed she lay staring into the dark, planning the details of a campaign warranted either to cure or kill the enemy.

Outside, a mocking bird, perched provokingly near her window, kept the night ringing with music. Resolutely she closed her ears to his song.

But presently, through the faint fragrance of oleanders, other sounds began to penetrate,--the strains of the waltz to which they had danced only the night before. The little art teacher turned wearily over and cried herself to sleep.

On the morning which followed she rose very early, however, much too early to breakfast with Blair at the little table in the sunny corner.

Instead, she ordered some coffee and toast at Jim's Waffle Shop in the village and was hard at work sketching on the wharf before eight o'clock. She had suddenly remembered a promise to sketch Capt. Warren's dog holding the gaff, a feat of which both Pal and his master were justifiably proud. Indeed, so long had the arrangement been made and so entirely had it been neglected, that no one was more surprised than the Captain himself at her unexpected appearance.

"But Pal and me ought to be at the Tuna Club in fifteen minutes, to take a party o' members out fishin'," he demurred. "You can't paint Pal in no quarter of an hour!"

"I'm sorry to have had to put it off so long," replied Miss Hastings crisply, "but I'm planning to go home in a few days now,--this afternoon probably. It's the only chance I shall have." And she prepared to make good the belated promise with such determination that, after a wistful glance or two across the slapping white caps, the old skipper meekly succ.u.mbed.

It was here Blair found her an hour or so later. Unceremoniously he placed himself in front of her, his hands in his pockets, and gave vent to a low whistle.

"Well, of all the--!"

"Oh, is it you, Mr. Blair?" she inquired in cool, sweet tones. "I thought most probably you'd gone! Didn't you say yesterday you intended to as soon as you'd seen the cavern?" Then, after a pause during which Blair said nothing, "I've been getting dreadfully behind with my own work, so I thought, if you didn't mind, I'd try to catch up a little this morning."

"Certainly not. Take all the time you want! We've about finished anyway, I guess." His coolness matched her own.

Another silence during which she painted furiously.