_On the private car again._
DEAREST MAMMA,--I am writing again today because I thought that perhaps
my yesterday's letter might have worried you, and there is nothing in
the least to mind about. My shoulder will soon heal, and I shall always
feel proud of the scar. It is plastered up and does not hurt much, so
don't be the smallest degree anxious. The hotel proprietor and some
handy miners who could do carpentering came up while we were away at
breakfast, and mended the doors, and everyone laughed and pretended
nothing had happened; only Nelson had rather a set face, and after
breakfast we climbed up on the steep mountain behind the hotel and
watched the world. He never spoke, only helped me over the rough places,
until we got high up above the last tent, and there we sat on a crag and
looked down at the camp. And I think he is the finest character of a
man I have ever known. It is only to you, Mamma, I would tell all this,
because you will understand.
It was so hot he had no coat on, only his flannel shirt, and his
trousers tucked into his long boots, and the grim gun stuck in his belt.
He looked extremely attractive with that felt hat slouched over his
eyes. He seemed to be gazing into distance as if alone, and then, after
a while, he turned and looked at me, and his eyes were full of pain like
a tortured animal, and I felt a wrench at my heart. Then he clasped his
hands tight together as though he were afraid he should take mine, and
he said the dearest things a man could say to a woman--how the stress of
the situation last night had forced from him an avowal of his love
for me. "I never meant to tell you, my sweet lady," he said. "I am no
weakling, I hope, to go snivelling over what is not for me; and when I
comprehended you were married, on the Lusitania, I just faced up the
situation and vowed I'd be a strong man."
Then he paused a moment as if his throat were dry: "No one can control
his emotion of love for a woman," he went on; "the sentiment he feels,
I mean, but the strong man controls the demonstration." He looked
away again, and his face was set like bronze. "I love you better than
anything on God's earth," he said, "and I want to tell you all the
truth, so that you won't feel you can't trust me, or when, if ever I
should chance to meet your husband, I can't look him straight in the
face. I love you, but I never mean to bother you or do anything in the
world but be your best friend." "Indeed, indeed, yes," I said, and I
told him how dreadfully sorry I was if I had hurt him, and how noble and
brave he seemed to me.
"You are my star," he said, "and I am going to crush this pain out of my
heart, and make it just a glad thing that I've known you, and something
to remember always; so don't you feel sorry, my lady, dear. It was not
your fault. It was nobody's fault--just fate. And we out in this desert
country learn to size up a situation and face it out. But I don't want
you to go away from this happy party of ours with an ache in your tender
heart, thinking I am a weakling and going to cry by myself in a corner;
I am not. Nothing's going to be changed, and you can count till death on
Nelson Renour."
I don't know what I said, Mamma, I was so profoundly touched. What a
noble gentleman; how miles and miles above the puny Europeans, setting
snares for every married woman's heart, if she is anything which
attracts them. Suddenly all the men I know seemed to turn into little
paltry dolls, and Harry with his dear blue eyes flashing at me seemed to
be the only reality, except this splendid Western hero; and a great
lump came in my throat, and I could not speak. Then he took my hand and
kissed it. "We're through with all our sad talk, my Lady Elizabeth," he
said, the kindest smile in his faithful eyes, "and now I am going to
show you I can keep my word, and not be a bleating lambkin."
We came down the mountain after that, and he told me just interesting
things about the camp, and the life, and the wonderful quantities of
gold there. And when we got into the restaurant tent where we were to
meet the others for lunch, Tom and the Vicomte and the rest had returned
after a fruitless search for desperadoes, and underneath I am glad they
have got away after all.
The journey back to Hot Creek was too divinely beautiful, in spite of
two broken tyres which delayed us. The view this way is indescribably
grand and vast--the sunset a pale magenta turning into crimson, and the
sky a blue turning to green, the desert grey, and the mountains beyond
deepest violet turning to sapphire and peacock blue. Does not it sound
as if I were romancing, Mamma! But it was really so, and luminous and
clear, so that we could see perhaps a hundred miles, all a vast sea of
sage brush. The Senator sat by me this time, and Octavia, while Nelson
went in front with the chauffeur, and the Senator held my arm and kept
my sore shoulder from getting shaken; and he seemed such a comfort and
so strong, and he asked us if we had enjoyed our trip in spite of the
catastrophe last night, and we both said we had, and all the more on
account of it, because it was lovely seeing the real thing. And he said
it was a chance in a thousand, as all the camps were so orderly now,
not as in Bret Harte, or as it was in his young days. And he said both
Octavia and I would make splendid miners' wives not to be squeamish or
silly over the "carrion" that was shot, and not to have trembling nerves
today. We felt so pleased, and only that underneath I can't help being
sad about Nelson, we should all have been very gay. It was about nine
o'clock when we reached the car and Marcus Aurelius's welcoming smiles,
and an appetising supper. And now I am writing to you to post where we
stop in the morning. We only stay one day in Osages and then go on our
way to the tarpons at last, and the joys of Mexico. It has been all more
than delightful, and I do hope the Americans like us as much as we like
them; from East to here we have received nothing but exquisite courtesy
and kindness, and I can never tell you what a grand and open and
splendid nation they are, Mamma, or how little understood in Europe. All
their faults are the faults of youth, as I said before; and everyone
will admit youth is a gift of the gods.
Now, good-night, dearest Mamma.
Fond love to all,
From your affectionate daughter,