“She is no more engaged to him than I am, Jack Truscott, and you
may take my word for it. More than that, it is my belief she has no
interest in him whatever,—never has had, and that all the talk of this
match is due to Lady Pelham’s manœuvring. The wish is mother to the
thought.”
So spoke the general’s wife the evening of the drive, and Truscott
listened with outward calm, but with emotions far from placid. He had
not seen Grace since their brief conversation, and, the ladies being
out at tea, had spent several lonely hours. During the afternoon,
however, he had visited the telegraph-office, and a despatch worded as
follows was already in the hands of his anxious correspondent in San
Francisco:
“RALPH PELHAM, Occidental Hotel, San Francisco.
“Rely on Glenham. All fixed. Letter by mail.
“TRUSCOTT.”
Now considering the fact that Glenham was miles away in the mountains,
with no possibility of communication, it may be considered a piece of
assumption on Truscott’s part to make such positive use of his name.
Truscott, however, though well knowing that his friend would be prompt
to respond to any call he might make upon him, had no intention of
putting him to the test.
Some two years previous, after an extended consultation with some
business friends in San Francisco, Truscott had placed his savings
in the hands of a firm, one of whom he knew well and trusted. His
wants were few in Arizona, his habits methodical, and from time to
time he had added from his pay to the original amount. These were
matters of which he never spoke to anybody, but the investment had
proved moderately remunerative. The growing business of the firm led
to further enterprises, and Jack’s money, with his entire consent,
had been devoted with other funds in their hands to the purchase of a
mining claim in Nevada, which gave promise of a profitable yield when
properly developed. Already the firm had sent three successive offers
to Truscott to purchase his stock at a tempting “rise,” but he had no
need for money at the moment and decided that he preferred to hold on.
The promise of the investment was quite as good as any other in which
he could embark. Glenham for a while had placed ten times as much money
in the hands of the same firm, but had declined to invest in the very
purchase in which Truscott was interested. “I don’t know enough about
mining ventures to risk it,” he said to Truscott, showing him the
prospectus and the familiar letter-head of the firm. “What do you think
of it, Jack?”
“If you have money you don’t know what to do with, it might be put
there as well as anywhere, but you know I never advise any one in a
matter of this kind.”
“Well, what would you do yourself?” persisted Glenham.
“I never had so much money at my disposal, but it seems to me that it
is poor policy to take it from a safe though slow investment to put it
where you may lose the whole lump in no time.”
Glenham inferred that Truscott had no confidence in the new scheme,
never dreamed that he had invested his all therein (“Why tell him?”
thought Jack, “he will then be sure to go in full tilt, and if we are
swamped hold me accountable”), and had concluded to try elsewhere; but
the firm held, as Pelham had stated, a few thousand dollars of his
money, and within a week from the receipt of Truscott’s despatch young
Ralph was relieved in mind by the arrival of a letter which, with one
other, Truscott had written that very afternoon. It ran somewhat as
follows:
“DEAR PELHAM,—On presentation of yourself and this note at Rundell,
Stearns & Co. you will find five hundred dollars at your disposal.
You know Stearns, I think: simply give him a receipt for the cash as
voucher.
“Glenham is off on a hurried dash after Apaches, but the matter was
easily arranged. I think it would be just as well _not_ to write him
any thanks, but to stick close to your work and resolution, and don’t
worry over the matter. Preaching is abhorrent to me, and experience,
though expensive, a far better teacher.
“Your letter reached me by the hand of Mrs. Pelham herself, and
excited her anxiety. I assured her you were well and in no trouble,
as she imagined. (Mental trouble was not allowed to count.) May I
suggest that frequent letters to her or to Miss Pelham would be the
easiest way of dispelling their anxiety and averting the possibility
of cross-questioning me? No one should know of this transaction,
and I can assure you that Glenham, who is a noble fellow, will not
breathe it to a soul. My reasons for suggesting that you say nothing
farther to him are cogent, but too many for explanation here. Be
guided by me, however, I will make all due acknowledgments.
“Were I to attempt to tell you of the sensation created by the
arrival of Miss Pelham this letter would require extra postage, and
I regard letters of that length as an imposition on friendship. The
colonel is at Sandy. I am on escort duty with the ladies, and expect
to join him next week.
“Yours sincerely,
“JOHN G. TRUSCOTT.”
This letter, as was stated, was posted with another addressed to his
business friend in the city:
“FORT WHIPPLE, A. T., November 28, 18—.
“DEAR STEARNS,—Mr. Ralph Pelham will call upon you in person for five
hundred dollars, which please pay him and charge to my account. If
necessary, dispose of sufficient stock to cover it. Your voucher will
be his receipt.
“I have reasons for preferring that he should regard this as coming
from Mr. Glenham (who would not have to sell), and desire you to
consider the affair as strictly confidential.
“Very truly yours,
“JOHN G. TRUSCOTT.”
Late that night the ladies had returned from a quiet tea-party at
Captain Lee’s, Grace and her hostess enthusiastic over the lovely,
winning ways of Mrs. Tanner, Lady Pelham, to their perplexity,
maintaining on that subject an attitude of austere, even mysterious
noncommittalism (for which word the writer desires to apologize). Grace
had been speedily summoned aloft by her mother, so that when Jack
entered the parlor only his hostess was there.
“You ought to have been with us,” she said. “Grace Pelham sang, and
sang sweetly. See here, Jack Truscott, you need not be so sublimely
indifferent to that young lady. I don’t like it. I warrant you never
saw many sweeter or brighter girls.”
“I never saw any,” replied he, briefly.
“Then why do you stand aloof, I’d like to know? One would suppose you
had no appreciation of what was attractive in woman.”
“My dear lady, is there not such a thing as having too much? What sense
is there in losing one’s head over a girl already bespoken?”
And then it was that his friend gave utterance to the words at the head
of this chapter.
Overhead he could hear voices in colloquy; one, unmistakably that of
her ladyship, was so loud and emphatic that an occasional word could be
distinguished; the other, subdued and gentle, was indistinguishable.
Evidently, too, the conversation was not placid. Mrs. Pelham’s somewhat
ponderous tread made the lightly-built army-ceiling quiver and crackle
as she paced rapidly to and fro.
“What in the world is she storming about to-night?” said the lady.
“I shall confide to you, Jack, that your colonel’s wife strikes me as
being a tartar.”
A door overhead opened, closed, tones again became muffled, and Jack
Truscott and his hostess sat staring in blank amazement in each other’s
face, for in the brief instant in which the chamber-door had been ajar
her ladyship’s voice, angry and unguarded, was distinctly audible to
both,—to all in the house in fact.
“—and Mrs. Tanner is not a fit person for a daughter of mine to——” And
here, in the language of the Congressional reporter, the hammer fell;
to be literal, her ladyship banged the door.
For a minute the occupants of the parlor were aghast. Then Truscott
calmly stepped to the hall-door and closed it.
“She may open the ports and fire another volley,” he said, “and I don’t
care to hear her, even by accident.”
“Well!” said his companion. “Listeners never hear any good of
themselves; but I never expected to live to hear evil of Mrs. Tanner.
She is my ideal of a perfect wife and mother. What do _you_ think?”
“My acquaintance is not extensive,” he replied, deliberately; “but in
the army or out of it I know of no one truer, purer, or nobler. Now, if
you will excuse me, I am going to bed. Good-night.”
The next morning Grace did not appear at breakfast. “Had a headache,”
said her mother in response to inquiries. Soon afterwards, as Truscott
started forth for a stroll with the doctor, she inquired if he intended
going to the office, and requested him to post a letter.
“Do you happen to know where Mrs. Treadwell is stationed now, Mr.
Truscott?” she asked.
“At Fort Hays, I think. Colonel Treadwell was in command there last
month.”
“Then this address is right,” she remarked, handing him the letter and
narrowly watching his features.
He glanced at the superscription, bowed in acquiescence, and turned
away.
As a specimen of feminine ingenuity that letter deserves to take rank.
This is a chapter of letters thus far. Here is her ladyship’s:
“MY DEAR MRS. TREADWELL,—Though we have not met for years, I hold
in warm remembrance the days when we were stationed together at
Sedgwick, and the kindly relations which then existed” (which was
more than the recipient of the letter could do, for she could not
bear Mrs. Pelham). “I write in haste, and know well that you will
be surprised at my writing at all; but duty as a mother compels me
to appeal to you for information on a very delicate subject, and I
trust you can relieve my mind. You may not have heard that Grace and
I have recently ‘joined’ the —th here in Arizona, and naturally I am
most anxious that she should be well guided in the selection of her
friends and associates.
“Among the ladies who at first made a most favorable impression was
Mrs. Tanner, whom, I am told, you knew well at Camp Phœnix. She
seemed everything that was desirable, but I regret to have to say
that _circumstances_ have occurred which seriously affect my opinion
of her, and among other stories which _late events_ have revived is
one that you at Camp Phœnix found her and Mr. Truscott alone in her
parlor during Captain Tanner’s absence in the field, and saw them
in a most indelicate and questionable a—well, I cannot write what
was told me (in the strictest confidence); but knowing you as I do,
a woman who never was known to say an unkind or a slanderous thing,
it impressed me most painfully and powerfully to be told by ladies
whom I believe in that you had positively made this statement. If it
be true, I beg you to tell me _exactly_ the truth; for Grace’s sake I
_must_ know.
“The colonel, Captain Tanner, and all the officers are in the field
except _Mr. Truscott, who is here, and she also_. You know he is
still adjutant of the regiment, and Colonel Pelham must be in utter
ignorance of this affair or he would not regard him as he does. Pray
do not ask me for any particulars. Simply tell me what you know,
and please consider this letter as inviolably confidential. I have
no heart to write any news, for this wretched affair fills me with
anxiety.
“Your attached friend,
“D. DE RUYTER PELHAM.”
And this was the letter Jack Truscott carried over to the office and
dropped in the mail-box this bright November morning. A fortnight more
and it was in Mrs. Treadwell’s hands, and a constrained and reluctant
answer was despatched to Arizona; but long before that reply could
reach Mrs. Pelham at Sandy it was possible for the very complications
to occur which she most ardently desired to frustrate. That very night
there came a despatch from Colonel Pelham pronouncing the road safe and
practicable, and the next morning Truscott was convoying the ladies of
Camp Sandy, now reinforced by Mrs. and Miss Pelham, down to the valley
wherein lay their frontier home. Three large ambulances carried the
party, a small guard of soldiers went along for appearance’s sake, and
without event of material importance the journey was safely effected,
and Grace Pelham made her _début_ at Camp Sandy, little dreaming of
the months of mingled happiness and serene content, of doubt and utter
misery, that lay before her.