a sappho of green springs-第2章

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Mendocino；〃　said　Jack；　sweetly；　〃and　when　he　told　me；　I　should　have

said　that　the　samples　he　was　offering　out　of　his　own　head　wouldn't

suit。　　You　see；　you　don't　want　any　trifling　in　such　matters。　　You

write　well　enough；　my　boy；〃　continued　he；　turning　over　his　paper；

〃but　what　you're　lacking　in　is　editorial　dignity。　　But　go　on　with

your　work。　　Don't　mind　me。〃



Thus　admonished；　the　editor　again　bent　over　his　desk；　and　his

friend　softly　took　up　his　suspended　song。　　The　editor　had　not

proceeded　far　in　his　corrections　when　Jack's　voice　again　broke　the

silence。



〃Where　are　those　dd　verses；　anyway？〃



Without　looking　up；　the　editor　waved　his　pencil　towards　an　uncut

copy　of　the　〃Excelsior　Magazine〃　lying　on　the　table。



〃You　don't　suppose　I'm　going　to　READ　them；　do　you？〃　said　Jack；

aggrievedly。　　〃Why　don't　you　say　what　they're　about？　　That's　your

business　as　editor。〃



But　that　functionary；　now　wholly　lost　and　wandering　in　the　non…

sequitur　of　an　involved　passage　in　the　proof　before　him；　only　waved

an　impatient　remonstrance　with　his　pencil　and　knit　his　brows。

Jack；　with　a　sigh；　took　up　the　magazine。



A　long　silence　followed；　broken　only　by　the　hurried　rustling　of

sheets　of　copy　and　an　occasional　exasperated　start　from　the　editor。

The　sun　was　already　beginning　to　slant　a　dusty　beam　across　his

desk；　Jack's　whistling　had　long　since　ceased。　　Presently；　with　an

exclamation　of　relief；　the　editor　laid　aside　the　last　proof…sheet

and　looked　up。



Jack　Hamlin　had　closed　the　magazine；　but　with　one　hand　thrown　over

the　back　of　the　sofa　he　was　still　holding　it；　his　slim　forefinger

between　its　leaves　to　keep　the　place；　and　his　handsome　profile　and

dark　lashes　lifted　towards　the　window。　　The　editor；　smiling　at　this

unwonted　abstraction；　said　quietly；



〃Well；　what　do　you　think　of　them？〃



Jack　rose；　laid　the　magazine　down；　settled　his　white　waistcoat　with

both　hands；　and　lounged　towards　his　friend　with　audacious　but

slightly　veiled　and　shining　eyes。　　〃They　sort　of　sing　themselves　to

you；〃　he　said；　quietly；　leaning　beside　the　editor's　desk；　and

looking　down　upon　him。　　After　a　pause　he　said；　〃Then　you　don't　know

what　she's　like？〃



〃That's　what　Mr。　Bowers　asked　me；〃　remarked　the　editor。



〃Dn　Bowers！〃



〃I　suppose　you　also　wish　me　to　write　and　ask　for　permission　to　give

you　her　address？〃　said　the　editor；　with　great　gravity。



〃No；〃　said　Jack；　coolly。　　〃I　propose　to　give　it　to　YOU　within　a

week；　and　you　will　pay　me　with　a　breakfast。　　I　should　like　to　have

it　said　that　I　was　once　a　paid　contributor　to　literature。　　If　I

don't　give　it　to　you；　I'll　stand　you　a　dinner；　that's　all。〃



〃Done！〃　said　the　editor。　　〃And　you　know　nothing　of　her　now？〃



〃No；〃　said　Jack；　promptly。　　〃Nor　you？〃



〃No　more　than　I　have　told　you。〃



〃That'll　do。　　So　long！〃　　And　Jack；　carefully　adjusting　his　glossy

hat　over　his　curls　at　an　ominously　wicked　angle；　sauntered　lightly

from　the　room。　　The　editor；　glancing　after　his　handsome　figure　and

hearing　him　take　up　his　pretermitted　whistle　as　he　passed　out；

began　to　think　that　the　contingent　dinner　was　by　no　means　an

inevitable　prospect。



Howbeit；　he　plunged　once　more　into　his　monotonous　duties。　　But　the

freshness　of　the　day　seemed　to　have　departed　with　Jack；　and　the

later　interruptions　of　foreman　and　publisher　were　of　a　more

practical　character。　　It　was　not　until　the　post　arrived　that　the

superscription　on　one　of　the　letters　caught　his　eye；　and　revived

his　former　interest。　　It　was　the　same　hand　as　that　of　his　unknown

contributor's　manuscriptill…formed　and　boyish。　　He　opened　the

envelope。　　It　contained　another　poem　with　the　same　signature；　but

also　a　notemuch　longer　than　the　brief　lines　that　accompanied　the

first　contributionwas　scrawled　upon　a　separate　piece　of　paper。

This　the　editor　opened　first；　and　read　the　following；　with　an

amazement　that　for　the　moment　dominated　all　other　sense：





MR。　EDITOR；I　see　you　have　got　my　poetry　in。　　But　I　don't　see　the

spondulix　that　oughter　follow。　　Perhaps　you　don't　know　where　to

send　it。　　Then　I'll　tell　you。　　Send　the　money　to　Lock　Box　47；　Green

Springs　P。　O。；　per　Wells　Fargo's　Express；　and　I'll　get　it　there；　on

account　of　my　parents　not　knowing。　　We're　very　high…toned；　and　they

would　think　it's　low　making　poetry　for　papers。　　Send　amount　usually

paid　for　poetry　in　your　papers。　　Or　may　be　you　think　I　make　poetry

for　nothing？　　That's　where　you　slip　up！



　　　　　　　　　　Yours　truly；　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　WHITE　VIOLET。



P。　S。If　you　don't　pay　for　poetry；　send　this　back。　　It's　as　good

as　what　you　did　put　in；　and　is　just　as　hard　to　make。　　You　hear　me？

that's　meall　the　time。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　WHITE　VIOLET。





The　editor　turned　quickly　to　the　new　contribution　for　some

corroboration　of　what　he　felt　must　be　an　extraordinary　blunder。

But　no！　　The　few　lines　that　he　hurriedly　read　breathed　the　same

atmosphere　of　intellectual　repose；　gentleness；　and　imagination　as

the　first　contribution。　　And　yet　they　were　in　the　same　handwriting

as　the　singular　missive；　and　both　were　identical　with　the　previous

manuscript。



Had　he　been　the　victim　of　a　hoax；　and　were　the　verses　not　original？

No；　they　were　distinctly　original；　local　in　color；　and　even　local

in　the　use　of　certain　old　English　words　that　were　common　in　the

Southwest。　　He　had　before　noticed　the　apparent　incongruity　of　the

handwriting　and　the　text；　and　it　was　possible　that　for　the　purposes

of　disguise　the　poet　might　have　employed　an　amanuensis。　　But　how

could　he　reconcile　the　incongruity　of　the　mercenary　and　slangy

purport　of　the　missive　itself　with　the　mental　habit　of　its　author？

Was　it　possible　that　these　inconsistent　qualities　existed　in　the

one　individual？　　He　smiled　grimly　as　he　thought　of　his　visitor

Bowers　and　his　friend　Jack。　　He　was　startled　as　he　remembered　the

purely　imaginative　picture　he　had　himself　given　to　the　seriously

interested　Bowers　of　the　possible　incongruous　personality　of　the

poetess。



Was　he　quite　fair　in　keeping　this　from　Jack？　　Was　it　really

honorable；　in　view　of　their　wager？　　It　is　to　be　feared　that　a　very

human　enjoyment　of　Jack's　possible　discomfiture　quite　as　much　as

any　chivalrous　friendship　impelled　the　editor　to　ring　eventually

for　the　office…boy。



〃See　if　Mr。　Hamlin　is　in　his　rooms。〃



The　editor　then　sat　down；　and　wrote　rapidly　as　follows：





DEAR　MADAM；You　are　as　right　as　you　are　generous　in　supposing　that

only　ignorance　of　your　address　prevented　the　manager　from

previously　remitting　the　honorarium　for　your　beautiful　verses。　　He

now　begs　to　send　it　to　you　in　the　manner　you　have　indicated。　　As

the　verses　have　attracted　deserved　attention；　I　have　been　applied

to　for　your　address。　　Should　you　care　to　submit　it　to　me　to　be　used

at　my　discretion；　I　shall　feel　honored　by　your　confidence。　　But

this　is　a　matter　left　entirely　to　your　own　kindness　and　better

judgment。　　Meantime；　I　take　pleasure　in　accepting　〃White　Violet's〃

present　contribution；　and　remain；　dear　madam；　your　obedient　servant；



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　EDITOR。





The　boy　returned　as　he　was　folding　the　letter。　　Mr。　Hamlin　was　not

only　NOT　in　his　rooms；　but；　according　to　his　negro　servant　Pete；

had　left　town　an　hour　ago　for　a　few　days　in　the　country。



〃Did　he　say　where？〃　asked　the　editor；　quickly。



〃No；　sir：　he　didn't　know。〃



〃Very　well。　　Take　this　to　the　manager。〃　　He　addressed　the　letter；

and；　scrawling　a　few　hieroglyphics　on　a　memorandum…tag；　tore　it

off；　and　handed　it　with　the　letter　to　the　boy。



An　hour　later　he　stood　in　the　manager's　office。　　〃The　next　number

is　pretty　well　made　up；〃　he　said；　carelessly；　〃and　I　think　of

taking　a　day　or　two　off。〃



〃Certainly；〃　said　the　manager。　　〃It　will　do　you　good。　　Where　do　you

think　you'll　go？〃



〃I　haven't　quite　made　up　my　mind。〃





CHAPTER　II





〃Hullo！〃　said　Jack　Hamlin。



He　had　halted　his　mare　at　the　edge　of　an　abrupt　chasm。　　It　did　not

appear　to　be　fifty　feet　across；　yet　its　depth　must　have　been　nearly

two　hundred　to　where　the　hidden　mountain…stream；　of　which　it　was

the　banks；　alternately　slipped；　tumbled；　and　fell　with　murmuring

and　monotonous　regularity。　　One　or　two　pine…trees　growing　on　the

opposite　edge；　loosened　at　the　roots；　had　tilted　their　straight

shafts　like　spears　over　the　abyss；　and　the　top　of　one；　resting　on

the　upper　branches　of　a　sycamore　a　few　yards　from　him；　served　as　an

aerial　bridge　for　the　passage　of　a　boy　of　fourteen　to　whom　Mr。

Hamlin's　challenge　was　addressed。



The　boy　stopped　midway　in　his　perilous　transit；　and；　looking　down

upon　the　horseman；　responded；　coolly；　〃Hullo；　yourself！〃



〃Is　that　the　only　way　across　this　infernal　hole；　or　the　one　you

prefer　for　exercise？〃　continued　Hamlin；　gravely。



The　boy　sat　down　on　a　bough；　allowing　his　bare　feet　to　dangle　over

the　dizzy　depths；　and　critically　examined　his　questioner。　　Jack　had

on　this　occasion　modified　his　usual　correct　conventional　attire　by

a　tasteful　combination　of　a　vaquero's　costume；　and；　in　loose　white

bullion…fringed　trousers；　red　sash；　jacket；　and　sombrero；　looked

infinitely　more　dashing　and　picturesque　than　his　original。

Nevertheless；　the　boy　did　not　reply。　　Mr。　Hamlin's　pride　in　his

usual　ascendency　over　women；　children；　horses；　and　all　unreasoning

animals　was　deeply　nettled。　　He　smiled；　however；　and　said；　quietly；



〃Come　here；　George　Washington。　　I　want　to　talk　to　you。〃



Without　rejecting　this　august　yet　impossible　title；　the　boy

presently　lifted　his　feet；　and　carelessly　resumed　his　passage

across　the　chasm　until；　reaching　the　sycamore；　he　began　to　let

himself　down　squirrel…wise；　leap　by　leap；　with　an　occasional

trapeze　swinging　from　bough　to　bough；　dropping　at　last　easily　to

the　ground。　　Here　he　appeared　to　be　rather　good…looking；　albeit　the

sun　and　air　had　worked　a　miracle　of　brown　tan　and　freckles　on　his

exposed　surfaces；　until　the　mottling　of　his　oval　cheeks　looked　like

a　polished　bird's　egg。　　Indeed；　it　struck　Mr。　Hamlin　that　he　was　as

intensely　a　part　of　that　sylvan　seclusion　as　the　hidden　brook　that

murmured；　the　brown　velvet　shadows　that　lay　like　trappings　on　the

white　flanks　of　his　horse；　the　quivering　heat；　and　the　stinging

spice　of　bay。　　Mr。　Hamlin　had　vague　ideas　of　dryads　and　fauns；　but

at　that　moment　would　have　bet　something　on　the　chances　of　their

survival。



〃I　did　not　hear　what　you　said　just　now；　general；〃　he　remarked；　with

great　elegance　of　manner；　〃but　I　know　from　your　reputation　that　it

could　not　be　a　lie。　　I　therefore　gather　that　there　IS　another　way

across。〃



The　boy　smiled；　rather；　his　very　short　upper　lip　apparently

vanished　completely　over　his　white　teeth；　and　his　very　black　eyes；

which　showed　a　great　deal　of　the　white　around　them；　danced　in　their

orbits。



〃But　YOU　couldn't　find　it；〃　he　said；　slyly。



〃No　more　could　you　find　the　half…do