Chapter II.

by Bret Harte

　　In an instant the whole situation and his relations to it flashedupon Paul with a terrible, but almost grotesque, completeness.Here he was, at the outset of his career, responsible for thewasted fortune of the daughter of a social outcast, and saddledwith her support! He now knew why Colonel Pendleton had wished tosee him; for one shameful moment he believed he also knew why hehad been content to take his proxy! The questionable character ofthe whole transaction, his own carelessness, which sprang from thatvery confidence and trust that Pendleton had lately extolled--whatwould, what could not be made of it! He already heard himselfabused by his opponents--perhaps, more terrible still, faintlyexcused by his friends. All this was visible in his pale face andflashing eyes as he turned them on the helpless invalid.Colonel Pendleton received his look with the same critical, half-curious scrutiny that had accompanied his speech. At last his facechanged slightly, a faint look of disappointment crossed his eyes,and a sardonic smile deepened the lines of his mouth."There, sir," he said hurriedly, as if dismissing an unpleasantrevelation; "don't alarm yourself! Take a drink of that whiskey.You look pale. Well; turn your eyes on those walls. You don't seeany of that money laid out here--do you? Look at me. I don't looklike a man enriched with other people's money--do I? Well, letthat content you. Every dollar of that Trust fund, Hathaway, withall the interests and profits that have accrued to it, is safe!Every cent of it is locked up in government bonds with Rothschild'sagent. There are the receipts, dated a week before the banksuspended. But enough of that--that isn't what I asked you to comeand see me for."The blood had rushed back to Paul's cheeks uncomfortably. He sawnow, as impulsively as he had previously suspected his co-trustee,that the man had probably ruined himself to save the Trust. Hestammered that he had not questioned the management of the fund norasked to withdraw his proxy."No matter, sir," said the colonel, impatiently; "you had theright, and I suppose," he added with half-concealed scorn, "it wasyour duty. But let that pass. The money is safe enough; but, Mr.Hathaway,--and this is the point I want to discuss with you,--itbegins to look as if the secret was safe no longer!" He had raisedhimself with some pain and difficulty to draw nearer to Paul, andhad again fixed his eyes eagerly upon him. But Paul's responsiveglance was so vague that he added quickly, "You understand, sir; Ibelieve that there are hounds--I say hounds!--who would be able toblurt out at any moment that that girl at Santa Clara is KateHoward's daughter."At any other moment Paul might have questioned the gravity of anysuch contingency, but the terrible earnestness of the speaker, hisdominant tone, and a certain respect which had lately sprung up inhis breast for him, checked him, and he only asked with as muchconcern as he could master for the moment:--"What makes you think so?""That's what I want to tell you, Hathaway, and how I, and I alone,am responsible for it. When the bank was in difficulty and I madeup my mind to guard the Trust with my own personal and privatecapital, I knew that there might be some comment on my action. Itwas a delicate matter to show any preference or exclusion at such amoment, and I took two or three of my brother directors whom Ithought I could trust into my confidence. I told them the wholestory, and how the Trust was sacred. I made a mistake, sir,"continued Pendleton sardonically, "a grave mistake. I did not takeinto account that even in three years civilization and religion hadgained ground here. There was a hound there--a blank Judas in theTrust. Well; he didn't see it. I think he talked Scripture andmorality. He said something about the wages of sin being infamous,and only worthy of confiscation. He talked about the sins of thefather being visited upon the children, and justly. I stopped him.Well! Do you know what's the matter with my ankle? Look!" Hestopped and, with some difficulty and invincible gravity, throwingaside his dressing-gown, turned down his stocking, and exposed toPaul's gaze the healed cicatrix of an old bullet-wound. "Troubledme damnably near a year. Where I hit him--hasn't troubled him atall since!"I think," continued the colonel, falling back upon the pillow withan air of relief, "that he told others--of his own kidney, sir,--though it was a secret among gentlemen. But they have preferred tobe silent now--than afterwards. They know that I'm ready. But Ican't keep this up long; some time, you know, they're bound toimprove in practice and hit higher up! As far as I'm concerned,"he added, with a grim glance around the faded walls and threadbarefurniture, "it don't mind; but mine isn't the mouth to be stopped."He paused, and then abruptly, yet with a sudden and patheticdropping of his dominant note, said: "Hathaway, you're young, andHammersley liked you--what's to be done? I thought of passing overmy tools to you. You can shoot, and I hear you have. But the h--lof it is that if you dropped a man or two people would ask why, andwant to know what it was about; while, when I do, nobody herethinks it anything but my way! I don't mean that it would hurt youwith the crowd to wipe out one or two of these hounds during thecanvass, but the trouble is that they belong to your party, and,"he added grimly, "that wouldn't help your career.""But," said Paul, ignoring the sarcasm, are you not magnifying theeffect of a disclosure? The girl is an heiress, excellentlybrought up. Who will bother about the antecedents of the mother,who has disappeared, whom she never knew, and who is legally deadto her?""In my day, sir, no one who knew the circumstances," returned thecolonel, quickly. "But we are living in a blessed era of Christianretribution and civilized propriety, and I believe there are a lotof men and women about who have no other way of showing their ownvirtue than by showing up another's vice. We're in a reaction ofreform. It's the old drunkards who are always more clamorous fortotal abstinence than the moderately temperate. I tell you,Hathaway, there couldn't be an unluckier moment for our secretcoming out.""But she will be of age soon.""In two months.""And sure to marry.""Marry!" repeated Pendleton, with grim irony. "Would you marryher?""That's another question," said the young man, promptly, "and oneof individual taste; but it does not affect my general belief thatshe could easily find a husband as good and better.""Suppose she found one before the secret is out. Ought he betold?""Certainly.""And that would imply telling her?""Yes," said Paul, but not so promptly. "And you consider thatfulfilling the promise of the Trust--the pledges exchanged withthat woman?" continued Pendleton, with glittering eyes and a returnto his own dominant tone."My dear colonel," said Paul, somewhat less positively, but stillsmiling, "you have made a romantic, almost impossible compact withMrs. Howard that, you yourself are now obliged to admit,circumstances may prevent your carrying out substantially. Youforget, also, that you have just told me that you have alreadybroken your pledge--under circumstances, it is true, that do youhonor--and that now your desperate attempts to retrieve it havefailed. Now, I really see nothing wrong in your telling to apresumptive well-wisher of the girl what you have told to herenemy."There was a dead silence. The prostrate man uttered a slightgroan, as if in pain, and drew up his leg to change his position.After a pause, he said, in a restrained voice, "I differ from you,Mr. Hathaway; but enough of this for the present. I have somethingelse to say. It will be necessary for one of us to go at once toSanta Clara and see Miss Yerba Buena.""Good heavens!" said Paul, quickly. "Do you call her that?""Certainly, sir. You gave her the name. Have you forgotten?""I only suggested it," returned Paul, hopelessly; "but no matter--go on.""I cannot go there, as you see," continued Pendleton, with a wearygesture towards his crippled ankle; "and I should particularly likeyou to see her before we make the joint disposition of her affairswith the Mayor, two months hence. I have some papers you can showher, and I have already written a letter introducing you to theLady Superior at the convent, and to her. You have never seenher?""No," said Paul. "But of course you have?""Not for three years."Paul's eyes evidently expressed some wonder, for a moment after thecolonel added, "I believe, Hathaway, I am looked upon as a queersurvival of a rather lawless and improper past. At least, I havethought it better not socially to compromise her by my presence.The Mayor goes there--at the examinations and exercises, I believe,sir; they make a sort of reception for him--with a--a--banquet--lemonade and speeches.""I had intended to leave for Sacramento to-morrow night," saidPaul, glancing curiously at the helpless man; "but I will go thereif you wish.""Thank you. It will be better."There were a few words of further explanation of the papers, andPendleton placed the packet in his visitor's hands. Paul rose.Somehow, it appeared to him that the room looked more faded andforgotten than when he entered it, and the figure of the man beforehim more lonely, helpless, and abandoned. With one of hissympathetic impulses he said:--"I don't like to leave you here alone. Are you sure you can helpyourself without George? Can I do anything before I go?""I am quite accustomed to it," said Pendleton, quietly. "Ithappens once or twice a year, and when I go out--well--I miss morethan I do here."He took Paul's proffered hand mechanically, with a slight return ofthe critical, doubting look he had cast upon him when he entered.his voice, too, had quite recovered its old dominance, as he said,with half-patronizing conventionality, "You'll have to find yourway out alone. Let me know how you have sped at Santa Clara, willyou? Good-by."The staircase and passage seemed to have grown shabbier and meaneras Paul, slowly and hesitatingly, descended to the street. At thefoot of the stairs he paused irresolutely, and loitered with avague idea of turning back on some pretense, only that he mightrelieve himself of the sense of desertion. He had alreadydetermined upon making that inquiry into the colonel's personal andpecuniary affairs which he had not dared to offer personally, andhad a half-formed plan of testing his own power and popularity in acertain line of relief that at once satisfied his sympathies andambitions. Nevertheless, after reaching the street, he lingered amoment, when an odd idea of temporizing with his inclinationsstruck him. At the farther end of the hotel--one of the parasitesliving on its decayed fortunes--was a small barber's shop. Byhaving his hair trimmed and his clothes brushed he could linger alittle longer beneath the same roof with the helpless solitary, andperhaps come to some conclusion. He entered the clean but scantilyfurnished shop, and threw himself into one of the nearest chairs,hardly noting that there were no other customers, and that a singleassistant, stropping a razor behind a glass door, was the onlyoccupant. But there was a familiar note of exaggerated politenessabout the voice of this man as he opened the door and came towardsthe back of the chair with the formula:--"Mo'nin', sah! Shall we hab de pleshure of shavin' or hah-cuttin'dis mo'nin'?" Paul raised his eyes quickly to the mirror beforehim. It reflected the black face and grizzled hair of George.More relieved at finding the old servant still near his master thancaring to comprehend the reason, Hathaway said pleasantly, "Well,George, is this the way you look after your family?"The old man started; for an instant his full red lips seemed tobecome dry and ashen, the whites of his eyes were suffused andstaring, as he met Paul's smiling face in the glass. But almost asquickly he recovered himself, and, with a polite but deprecatingbow, said,--"For God sake, sah! I admit de sarkumstances is aginme, but de simple fack is dat I'm temper'ly occupyin' de place ofan ole frien', sah, who is called round de cornah.""And I'm devilish glad of any fact, George, that gives me a chanceof having my hair cut by Colonel Pendleton's right-hand man. Sofire away!"The gratified smile which now suddenly overspread the whole of theold man's face, and seemed to quickly stiffen the rugged andwrinkled fingers that had at first trembled in drawing a pair ofshears from a ragged pocket, appeared to satisfy Paul's curiosityfor the present. But after a few moments' silent snipping, duringwhich he could detect in the mirror some traces of agitation stilltwitching the negro's face, he said with an air of conviction:--"Look here, George--why don't you regularly use your leisuremoments in this trade? You'd make your fortune by your taste andskill at it."For the next half minute the old man's frame shook with silentchildlike laughter behind Paul's chair. "Well, Marse Hathaway,yo's an ole frien' o' my massa, and a gemman yo'self, sah, and asenetah, and I do'an mind tellin' yo'--dat's jess what I bin gonedone! It makes a little ready money for de ole woman and dechilleren. But de Kernel don' no'. Ah, sah! de Kernel kill me orhisself if he so much as 'spicioned me. De Kernel is high-toned,sah!--bein' a gemman yo'self, yo' understand. He wouldn't heah obhis niggah worken' for two massas--for all he's willen' to lemme goand help myse'f. But, Lord bless yo', sah, dat ain't in decategory! De Kernel couldn't get along widout me.""You collect his rents, don't you?" said Paul, quietly."Yes, sah.""Much?""Well, no, sah; not so much as fom'ly, sah! Yo' see, de Kernel'sprop'ty lies in de ole parts ob de town, where de po' white folkslib, and dey ain't reg'lar. De Kernel dat sof' in his heart, hedare n' press 'em; some of 'em is ole fo'ty-niners, like hisself,sah; and some is Spanish, sah, and dey is sof' too, and ain't nomore gumption dan chilleren, and tink it's ole time come ag'in, anddey's in de ole places like afo' de Mexican wah! and dey don' binpayin' noffin'. But we gets along, sah,--we gets along,--not in deprima facie style, sah! mebbe not in de modden way dut de Kerneldon't like; but we keeps ourse'f, sah, and has wine fo' ourfriends. When yo' come again, sah, yo' 'll find de Widder Glencoeon de sideboard.""Has the colonel many friends here?""Mos' de ole ones bin done gone, sah, and de Kernel don' cotton tode new. He don' mix much in sassiety till de bank settlements bingone done. Skuse me, sah!--but you don' happen to know when datis? It would be a pow'ful heap off de Kernel's mind if it wasdone. Bein' a high and mighty man in committees up dah inSacramento, sah, I didn't know but what yo' might know as it mightcome befo' yo'.""I'll see about it," said Paul, with an odd, abstracted smile."Shampoo dis mornen', sah?""Nothing more in this line," said Paul, rising from his chair, "butsomething more, perhaps, in the line of your other duties. You'rea good barber for the public, George, and I don't take back what Isaid about your future; but just now I think the colonel wants allyour service. He's not at all well. Take this," he said, puttinga twenty-dollar gold piece in the astonished servant's hand, "andfor the next three or four days drop the shop, and under somepretext or another arrange to be with him. That money will coverwhat you lose here, and as soon as the colonel's all right againyou can come back to work. But are you not afraid of beingrecognized by some one?""No, sah, dat's just it. On'y strangers dat don't know no bettercome yere.""But suppose your master should drop in? It's quite convenient tohis rooms.""Marse Harry in a barber-shop!" said the old man with a silentlaugh. "Skuse me, sah," he added, with an apologetic mixture ofrespect and dignity, "but fo' twenty years no man hez touched deKernel's chin but myself. When Marse Harry hez to go to a barber'sshop, it won't make no matter who's dar.""Let's hope he will not," said Paul gayly; then, anxious to evadethe gratitude which, since his munificence, he had seen beaming inthe old negro's eye and evidently trying to find polysyllabic andelevated expression on his lips, he said hurriedly, "I shall expectto find you with the colonel when I call again in a day or two,"and smilingly departed.At the end of two hours George's barber-employer returned torelieve his assistant, and, on receiving from him an account and acertain percentage of the afternoon's fees (minus the gift fromPaul), was informed by George that he should pretermit hisattendance for a few days. "Udder private and personal affairs,"explained the old negro, who made no social distinction in hisvocabulary, "peroccupyin' dis niggah's time." The head barber,unwilling to lose a really good assistant, endeavored to dissuadehim by the offer of increased emolument, but George was firm.As he entered the sitting-room the colonel detected his step, andcalled him in."Another time, George, never allow a guest of mine to send awaywine. If he don't care for it, put it on the sideboard.""Yes, sah; but as yo' didn't like it yo'self, Marse Harry, and dewine was de most 'xpensive quality ob Glencoe"--"D--n the expense!" He paused, and gazed searchingly at his oldretainer."George," he said suddenly, yet in a gentle voice, "don't lie tome, or"--in a still kinder voice--"I'll flog the black skin offyou! Listen to me. Have you got any money left?""'Deed, sah, dere is," said the negro earnestly. "I'll jist fetchit wid de accounts.""Hold on! I've been thinking, lying here, that if the Widow Molloycan't pay because she sold out, and that tobacconist is ruined, andwe've had to pay the water tax for old Bill Soames, the rent lastweek don't amount to much, while there's the month's bill for therestaurant and that blank druggist's account for lotions andmedicines to come out of it. It strikes me we're pretty neartouching bottom. I've everything I want here, but, by God, sir, ifI find you skimping yourself or lying to me or borrowing money"--"Yes, Marse Harry, but the Widder Molloy done gone and paid up disafernoon. I'll bring de books and money to prove it;" and hehurriedly reentered the sitting-room.Then with trembling hands he emptied his pockets on the table,including Paul's gift and the fees he had just received, andopening a desk-drawer took from it a striped cotton handkerchief,such as negro women wear on their heads, containing a smallquantity of silver tied up in a hard knot, and a boy's purse. Thishe emptied on the table with his own money.They were the only rents of Colonel Henry Pendleton! They werecontributed by "George Washington Thomson;" his wife, otherwiseknown as "Aunt Dinah," washerwoman; and "Scipio Thomson," theirson, aged fourteen, bootblack. It did not amount to much. But inthat happy moisture that dimmed the old man's eyes, God knows itlooked large enough.