But wont we incommode the lady of the house? said Mrs. Sol politely.
What lady of the house? said Rand almost angrily.
Why, Ruth, you know!
It was Rands turn to become hilarious. Ruth, he said, is short for Rutherford, my brother. His laugh, however, was echoed only by Euphemia.
Then you have a brother? said Mrs. Sol benignly.
Yes, said Rand: he will be here soon. A sudden thought dropped the color from his cheek. Look here, he said, turning impulsively upon Sol. I have a brother, a twin-brother. It couldnt be HIM
Sol was conscious of a significant feminine pressure on his right arm. He was equal to the emergency. I think not, he said dubiously, unless your brothers hair is much darker than yours. Yes! now I look at you, yours is brown. He has a mole on his right cheek hasnt he?
The red came quickly back to Rands boyish face. He laughed. No, sir: my brothers hair is, if any thing, a shade lighter than mine, and nary mole. Come along!
And leading the way, Rand disclosed the narrow steps winding down to the shelf on which the cabin hung. Be careful, said Rand, taking the now unresisting hand of the Marysville Pet as they descended: a step that way, and down you go two thousand feet on the top of a pine-tree.
But the girls slight cry of alarm was presently changed to one of unaffected pleasure as they stood on the rocky platform. It isnt a house: its a NEST, and the loveliest! said Euphemia breathlessly.
Its a scene, a perfect scene, sir! said Sol, enraptured. I shall take the liberty of bringing my scene-painter to sketch it some day. It would do for The Mountaineers Bride superbly, or, continued the little man, warming through the blue-black border of his face with professional enthusiasm, its enough to make a play itself. The Cot on the Crags. Last scenemoonlightthe struggle on the ledge! The Lady of the Crags throws herself from the beetling heights!A shriek from the depthsa womans wail!
Dry up! sharply interrupted Rand, to whom this speech recalled his brothers half-forgotten strangeness. Look at the prospect.
In the full noon of a cloudless day, beneath them a tumultuous sea of pines surged, heaved, rode in giant crests, stretched and lost itself in the ghostly, snow-peaked horizon. The thronging woods choked every defile, swept every crest, filled every valley with its dark-green tilting spears, and left only Table Mountain sunlit and bare. Here and there were profound olive depths, over which the gray hawk hung lazily, and into which blue jays dipped. A faint, dull yellowish streak marked an occasional watercourse; a deeper reddish ribbon, the mountain road and its overhanging murky cloud of dust.
Is it quite safe here? asked Mrs. Sol, eying the little cabin. I mean from storms?
It never blows up here, replied Rand, and nothing happens.
It must be lovely, said Euphemia, clasping her hands.
It IS that, said Rand proudly. Its four years since Ruth and I took up this yer claim, and raised this shanty. In that four years we havent left it alone a night, or cared to. Its only big enough for two, and them two must be brothers. It wouldnt do for mere pardners to live here alone,they couldnt do it. It wouldnt be exactly the thing for man and wife to shut themselves up here alone. But Ruth and me know each others ways, and here well stay until weve made a pile. We sometimesone of ustakes a pasear to the Ferry to buy provisions; but were glad to crawl up to the back of old Table at night.
Youre quite out of the world here, then? suggested Mrs. Sol.
Thats it, just it! Were out of the world,out of rows, out of liquor, out of cards, out of bad company, out of temptation. Cussedness and foolishness hez got to follow us up here to find us, and theres too many ready to climb down to them things to tempt em to come up to us.
There was a little boyish conceit in his tone, as he stood there, not altogether unbecoming his fresh color and simplicity. Yet, when his eyes met those of Miss Euphemia, he colored, he hardly knew why, and the young lady herself blushed rosily.
When the neat cabin, with its decorated walls, and squirrel and wild-cat skins, was duly admired, the luncheon-basket of the Saunders party was re-enforced by provisions from Rands larder, and spread upon the ledge; the dimensions of the cabin not admitting four. Under the potent influence of a bottle, Sol became hilarious and professional. The Pet was induced to favor the company with a recitation, and, under the plea of teaching Rand, to perform the clog-dance with both gentlemen. Then there was an interval, in which Rand and Euphemia wandered a little way down the mountain-side to gather laurel, leaving Mr. Sol to his siesta on a rock, and Mrs. Sol to take some knitting from the basket, and sit beside him.
When Rand and his companion had disappeared, Mrs. Sol nudged her sleeping partner. Do you think that WAS the brother?
Sol yawned. Sure of it. Theyre as like as two peas, in looks.
Why didnt you tell him so, then?
Will you tell me, my dear, why you stopped me when I began?
Because something was said about Ruth being here; and I supposed Ruth was a woman, and perhaps Pinkneys wife, and knew youd be putting your foot in it by talking of that other woman. I supposed it was for fear of that he denied knowing you.
Well, when HEthis Randtold me he had a twin-brother, he looked so frightened that I knew he knew nothing of his brothers doings with that woman, and I threw him off the scent. Hes a good fellow, but awfully green, and I didnt want to worry him with tales. I like him, and I think Phemie does too.
Nonsense! Hes a conceited prig! Did you hear his sermon on the world and its temptations? I wonder if he thought temptation had come up to him in the person of us professionals out on a picnic. I think it was positively rude.
My dear woman, youre always seeing slights and insults. I tell you hes taken a shine to Phemie; and hes as good as four seats and a bouquet to that child next Wednesday evening, to say nothing of the eclat of getting this St. Simeonwhat do you call him?Stalactites?
Stylites, suggested Mrs. Sol.
Stylites, off from his pillar here. Ill have a paragraph in the paper, that the hermit crabs of Table Mountain
Dont be a fool, Sol!
The hermit twins of Table Mountain bespoke the chaste performance.
One of them being the protector of the well-known Mornie Nixon, responded Mrs. Sol, viciously accenting the name with her knitting-needles.
Rosy, youre unjust. Youre prejudiced by the reports of the town. Mr. Pinkneys interest in her may be a purely artistic one, although mistaken. Shell never make a good variety-actress: shes too heavy. And the boys dont give her a fair show. No woman can make a debut in my version of Somnambula, and have the front row in the pit say to her in the sleepwalking scene, Youre out rather late, Mornie. Kinder forgot to put on your things, didnt you? Mother sick, I suppose, and youre goin for more gin? Hurry along, or youll ketch it when ye get home. Why, you couldnt do it yourself, Rosy!
To which Mrs. Sols illogical climax was, that, bad as Rutherford might be, this Sunday-school superintendent, Rand, was worse.
Rand and his companion returned late, but in high spirits. There was an unnecessary effusiveness in the way in which Euphemia kissed Mrs. Sol,the one woman present, who UNDERSTOOD, and was to be propitiated,which did not tend to increase Mrs. Sols good humor. She had her basket packed all ready for departure; and even the earnest solicitation of Rand, that they would defer their going until sunset, produced no effect.