A week passed.A weary,anxious interval to Don Caesar,who had neither seen nor heard from Mamie since their last meeting.Too conscious of his own self-respect to call at the house after the equivocal conduct of Mrs.Mulrady,and too proud to haunt the lanes and approaches in the hope of meeting her daughter,like an ordinary lover,he hid his gloomy thoughts in the monastic shadows of the courtyard at Los Gatos,or found relief in furious riding at night and early morning on the highway.Once or twice the up-stage had been overtaken and passed by a rushing figure as shadowy as a phantom horseman,with only the star-like point of a cigarette to indicate its humanity.It was in one of these fierce recreations that he was obliged to stop in early morning at the blacksmith's shop at Rough-and-Ready,to have a loosend horseshoe replaced,and while waiting picked up a newspaper.Don Caesar seldom read the papers,but noticing that this was the "Record,"he glanced at its columns.A familiar name suddenly flashed out of the dark type like a spark from the anvil.With a brain and heart that seemed to be beating in unison with the blacksmith's sledge,he read as follows:--"Our distinguished fellow-townsman,Alvin Mulrady,Esq.,left town day before yesterday to attend an important meeting of directors of the Red Dog Ditch Company,in San Francisco.Society will regret to hear that Mrs.Mulrady and her beautiful and accomplished daughter,who are expecting to depart for Europe at the end of the month,anticipated the event nearly a fortnight,by taking this opportunity of accompanying Mr.Mulrady as far as San Francisco,on their way to the East.Mrs.and Miss Mulrady intend to visit London,Paris,and Berlin,and will be absent three years.It is possible that Mr.Mulrady may join them later at one or other of those capitals.Considerable disappointment is felt that a more extended leave-taking was not possible,and that,under the circumstances,no opportunity was offered for a 'send off'suitable to the condition of the parties and the esteem in which they are held in Rough-and-Ready."The paper dropped from his hands.Gone!and without a word!No,that was impossible!There must be some mistake;she had written;the letter had miscarried;she must have sent word to Los Gatos,and the stupid messenger had blundered;she had probably appointed another meeting,or expected him to follow to San Francisco."The day before yesterday!"It was the morning's paper--she had been gone scarcely two days--it was not too late yet to receive a delayed message by post,by some forgetful hand--by--ah--the tree!
Of course it was in the tree,and he had not been there for a week!
Why had he not thought of it before?The fault was his,not hers.
Perhaps she had gone away,believing him faithless,or a country boor.
"In the name of the Devil,will you keep me here till eternity!"The blacksmith stared at him.Don Caesar suddenly remembered that he was speaking,as he was thinking--in Spanish.
"Ten dollars,my friend,if you have done in five minutes!"The man laughed."That's good enough American,"he said,beginning to quicken his efforts.Don Caesar again took up the paper.There was another paragraph that recalled his last interview with Mamie:--"Mr.Harry Slinn,Jr.,the editor of this paper,has just moved into the pioneer house formerly occupied by Alvin Mulrady,Esq.,which has already become historic in the annals of the county.Mr.
Slinn brings with him his father--H.J.Slinn,Esq.,--and his two sisters.Mr.Slinn,Sen.,who has been suffering for many years from complete paralysis,we understand is slowly improving;and it is by the advice of his physicians that he has chosen the invigorating air of the foothills as a change to the debilitating heat of Sacramento."The affair had been quickly settled,certainly,reflected Don Caesar,with a slight chill of jealousy,as he thought of Mamie's interest in the young editor.But the next moment he dismissed it from his mind;all except a dull consciousness that,if she really loved him--Don Caesar--as he loved her,she could not have assisted in throwing into his society the young sisters of the editor,who she expected might be so attractive.
Within the five minutes the horse was ready,and Don Caesar in the saddle again.In less than half an hour he was at the wayside boulder.Here he picketed his horse,and took the narrow foot-trail through the hollow.It did not take him long to reach their old trysting-place.With a beating heart he approached the decaying trunk and looked into the cavity.There was no letter there!
A few blackened nuts and some of the dry moss he had put there were lying on the ground at its roots.He could not remember whether they were there when he had last visited the spot.He began to grope in the cavity with both hands.His fingers struck against the sharp angles of a flat paper packet:a thrill of joy ran through them and stopped his beating heart;he drew out the hidden object,and was chilled with disappointment.
It was an ordinary-sized envelope of yellowish-brown paper,bearing,besides the usual government stamp,the official legend of an express company,and showing its age as much by this record of a now obsolete carrying service as by the discoloration of time and atmosphere.Its weight,which was heavier than that of any ordinary letter of the same size and thickness,was evidently due to some loose enclosures,that slightly rustled and could be felt by the fingers,like minute pieces of metal or grains of gravel.
