05-the prieslty prerogative-第2部分

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remarked　what　an　energetic　fellow　that　Bentham　was。　It　was　she　who

studied　maps；　and　catechised　miners；　and　hammered　geography　and

locations　into　his　hollow　head；　till　everybody　marveled　at　his　broad

grasp　of　the　country　and　knowledge　of　its　conditions。　Of　course；

they　said　the　wife　was　a　brick；　and　only　a　few　wise　ones　appreciated

and　pitied　the　brave　little　woman。

　　She　did　the　work；　he　got　the　credit　and　reward。　In　the　Northwest

Territory　a　married　woman　cannot　stake　or　record　a　creek；　bench；　or

quartz　claim；　so　Edwin　Bentham　went　down　to　the　Gold　Commissioner

and　filed　on　Bench　Claim　23；　second　tier；　of　French　Hill。　And　when

April　came　they　were　washing　out　a　thousand　dollars　a　day；　with

many；　many　such　days　in　prospect。

　　At　the　base　of　French　Hill　lay　Eldorado　Creek；　and　on　a　creek

claim　stood　the　cabin　of　Clyde　Wharton。　At　present　he　was　not

washing　out　a　diurnal　thousand　dollars；　but　his　dumps　grew；　shift　by

shift；　and　there　would　come　a　time　when　those　dumps　would　pass　through

his　sluice…boxes；　depositing　in　the　riffles；　in　the　course　of　half　a

dozen　days；　several　hundred　thousand　dollars。　He　often　sat　in　that

cabin；　smoked　his　pipe；　and　dreamed　beautiful　little　dreams；…　dreams

in　which　neither　the　dumps　nor　the　half…ton　of　dust　in　the　P。　C。

Company's　big　safe；　played　a　part。

　　And　Grace　Bentham；　as　she　washed　tin　dishes　in　her　hillside　cabin；

often　glanced　down　into　Eldorado　Creek；　and　dreamed；…　not　of　dumps　nor

dust；　however。　They　met　frequently；　as　the　trail　to　the　one　claim

crossed　the　other；　and　there　is　much　to　talk　about　in　the　Northland

spring；　but　never　once；　by　the　light　of　an　eye　nor　the　slip　of　a

tongue；　did　they　speak　their　hearts。

　　This　is　as　it　was　at　first。　But　one　day　Edwin　Bentham　was　brutal。

All　boys　are　thus；　besides；　being　a　French　Hill　king　now；　he　began

to　think　a　great　deal　of　himself　and　to　forget　all　he　owed　to　his

wife。　On　this　day；　Wharton　heard　of　it；　and　waylaid　Grace　Bentham；　and

talked　wildly。　This　made　her　very　happy；　though　she　would　not

listen；　and　made　him　promise　to　not　say　such　things　again。　Her　hour

had　not　come。


　　But　the　sun　swept　back　on　its　northern　journey；　the　black　of

midnight　changed　to　the　steely　color　of　dawn；　the　snow　slipped　away；

the　water　dashed　again　over　the　glacial　drift；　and　the　wash…up

began。　Day　and　night　the　yellow　clay　and　scraped　bedrock　hurried

through　the　swift　sluices；　yielding　up　its　ransom　to　the　strong　men

from　the　Southland。　And　in　that　time　of　tumult　came　Grace　Bentham's

hour。

　　To　all　of　us　such　hours　at　some　time　come；…　that　is；　to　us　who　are

not　too　phlegmatic。　Some　people　are　good；　not　from　inherent　love　of

virtue；　but　from　sheer　laziness。　But　those　of　us　who　know　weak　moments

may　understand。

　　Edwin　Bentham　was　weighing　dust　over　the　bar　of　the　saloon　at　the

Forks…　altogether　too　much　of　his　dust　went　over　that　pine　board…　when

his　wife　came　down　the　hill　and　slipped　into　Clyde　Wharton's　cabin。

Wharton　was　not　expecting　her；　but　that　did　not　alter　the　case。　And

much　subsequent　misery　and　idle　waiting　might　have　been　avoided；　had

not　Father　Roubeau　seen　this　and　turned　aside　from　the　main　creek

trail。



　　'My　child；…'

　　'Hold　on；　Father　Roubeau！　Though　I'm　not　of　your　faith；　I　respect

you；　but　you　can't　come　in　between　this　woman　and　me！'

　　'You　know　what　you　are　doing？'

　　'Know！　Were　you　God　Almighty；　ready　to　fling　me　into　eternal　fire；

I'd　bank　my　will　against　yours　in　this　matter。'

　　Wharton　had　placed　Grace　on　a　stool　and　stood　belligerently　before

her。

　　'You　sit　down　on　that　chair　and　keep　quiet；'　he　continued；

addressing　the　Jesuit。　'I'll　take　my　innings　now。　You　can　have　yours

after。'

　　Father　Roubeau　bowed　courteously　and　obeyed。　He　was　an　easy…going

man　and　had　learned　to　bide　his　time。　Wharton　pulled　a　stool　alongside

the　woman's；　smothering　her　hand　in　his。

　　'Then　you　do　care　for　me；　and　will　take　me　away？'　Her　face　seemed　to

reflect　the　peace　of　this　man；　against　whom　she　might　draw　close　for

shelter。

　　'Dear；　don't　you　remember　what　I　said　before？　Of　course　I…'

　　'But　how　can　you？…　the　wash…up？'

　　'Do　you　think　that　worries？　Anyway；　I'll　give　the　job　to　Father

Roubeau；　here。　I　can　trust　him　to　safely　bank　the　dust　with　the

company。'

　　'To　think　of　it！…　I'll　never　see　him　again。'

　　'A　blessing！'

　　'And　to　go…　O；　Clyde；　I　can't！　I　can't！'

　　'There；　there；　of　course　you　can。　just　let　me　plan　it。…　You　see；

as　soon　as　we　get　a　few　traps　together；　we'll　start；　and…'

　　'Suppose　he　comes　back？'

　　'I'll　break　every…'

　　'No；　no！　No　fighting；　Clyde！　Promise　me　that。'

　　'All　right！　I'll　just　tell　the　men　to　throw　him　off　the　claim。

They've　seen　how　he's　treated　you；　and　haven't　much　love　for　him。'

　　'You　mustn't　do　that。　You　mustn't　hurt　him。'

　　'What　then？　Let　him　come　right　in　here　and　take　you　away　before　my

eyes？'

　　'No…o；'　she　half　whispered；　stroking　his　hand　softly。

　　'Then　let　me　run　it；　and　don't　worry。　I'll　see　he　doesn't　get

hurt。　Precious　lot　he　cared　whether　you　got　hurt　or　not！　We　won't　go

back　to　Dawson。　I'll　send　word　down　for　a　couple　of　the　boys　to　outfit

and　pole　a　boat　up　the　Yukon。　We'll　cross　the　divide　and　raft　down　the

Indian　River　to　meet　them。　Then…'

　　'And　then？'

　　Her　head　was　on　his　shoulder。　Their　voices　sank　to　softer

cadences；　each　word　a　caress。　The　Jesuit　fidgeted　nervously。

　　'And　then？'　she　repeated。

　　'Why　we'll　pole　up；　and　up；　and　up；　and　portage　the　White　Horse

Rapids　and　the　Box　Canon。'

　　'Yes？'

　　'And　the　Sixty…Mile　River；　then　the　lakes；　Chilcoot；　Dyea；　and

Salt　Water。'

　　'But；　dear；　I　can't　pole　a　boat。'

　　'You　little　goose！　I'll　get　Sitka　Charley；　he　knows　all　the　good

water　and　best　camps；　and　he　is　the　best　traveler　I　ever　met；　if　he　is

an　Indian。　All　you'll　have　to　do；　is　to　sit　in　the　middle　of　the　boat；

and　sing　songs；　and　play　Cleopatra；　and　fight…　no；　we're　in　luck；

too　early　for　mosquitoes。'

　　'And　then；　O　my　Antony？'

　　'And　then　a　steamer；　San　Francisco；　and　the　world！　Never　to　come

back　to　this　cursed　hole　again。　Think　of　it！　The　world；　and　ours　to

choose　from！　I'll　sell　out。　Why；　we're　rich！　The　Waldworth　Syndicate

will　give　me　half　a　million　for　what's　left　in　the　ground；　and　I've

got　twice　as　much　in　the　dumps　and　with　the　P。　C。　Company。　We'll　go　to

the　Fair　in　Paris　in　1900。　We'll　go　to　Jerusalem；　if　you　say　so。　We'll

buy　an　Italian　palace；　and　you　can　play　Cleopatra　to　your　heart's

content。　No；　you　shall　be　Lucretia；　Acte；　or　anybody　your　little　heart

sees　fit　to　become。　But　you　mustn't；　you　really　mustn't…'

　　'The　wife　of　Caesar　shall　be　above　reproach。'

　　'Of　course；　but…'

　　'But　I　won't　be　your　wife；　will　I；　dear？'

　　'I　didn't　mean　that。'

　　'But　you'll　love　me　just　as　much；　and　never　even　think…　oh！　I　know

you'll　be　like　other　men；　you'll　grow　tired；　and…　and…'

　　'How　can　you？　I…'

　　'Promise　me。'

　　'Yes；　yes；　I　do　promise。'

　　'You　say　it　so　easily；　dear；　but　how　do　you　know？…　or　I　know？　I　have

so　little　to　give；　yet　it　is　so　much；　and　all　I　have。　O；　Clyde！

promise　me　you　won't？'

　　'There；　there！　You　musn't　begin　to　doubt　already。　Till　death　do　us

part；　you　know。'

　　'Think！　I　once　said　that　to…　to　him；　and　now？'

　　'And　now；　little　sweetheart；　you're　not　to　bother　about　such

things　any　more。　Of　course；　I　never；　never　will；　and…'

　　And　for　the　first　time；　lips　trembled　against　lips。　Father　Roubeau

had　been　watching　the　main　trail　through　the　window；　but　could　stand

the　strain　no　longer。　He　cleared　his　throat　and　turned　around。

　　'Your　turn　now；　Father！'　Wharton's　face　was　flushed　with　the　fire　of

his　first　embrace。　There　was　an　exultant　ring　to　his　voice　as　he

abdicated　in　the　other's　favor。　He　had　no　doubt　as　to　the　result。

Neither　had　Grace；　for　a　smile　played　about　her　mouth　as　she　faced　the

priest。

　　'My　child；'　he　began；　'my　heart　bleeds　for　you。　It　is　a　pretty

dream；　but　it　cannot　be。'

　　'And　why；　Father？　I　have　said　yes。'

　　'You　knew　not　what　you　did。　You　did　not　think　of　the　oath　you

took；　before　your　God；　to　that　man　who　is　your　husband。　It　remains　for

me　to　make　you　realize　the　sanctity　of　such　a　pledge。'

　　'And　if　I　do　realize；　and　yet　refuse？'

　　'Then　God…'

　　'Which　God？　My　husband　has　a　God　which　I　care　not　to　worship。

There　must　be　many　such。'

　　'Child！　unsay　those　words！　Ah！　you　do　not　mean　them。　I　understand。

I；　too；　have　had　such　moments。'　For　an　instant　he　was　back　in　his

native　France；　and　a　wistful；　sad…eyed　face　came　as　a　mist　between　him

and　the　woman　before　him。

　　'Then；　Father；　has　my　God　forsaken　me？　I　am　not　wicked　above

women。　My　misery　with　him　has　been　great。　Why　should　it　be　greater？

Why　shall　I　not　grasp　at　happiness？　I　cannot；　will　not；　go　back　to

him！'

　　'Rather　is　your　God　forsaken。　Return。　Throw　your　burden　upon　Him；

and　the　darkness　shall　be　lifted。　O　my　child；…'

　　'No；　it　is　useless；　I　have　made　my　bed　and　so　shall　I　lie。　I　will　go

on。　And　if　God　punishes　me；　I　shall　bear　it　somehow。　You　do　not

understand。　You　are　not　a　woman。'

　　'My　mother　was　a　woman。'

　　'But…'

　　'And　Christ　was　born　of　a　woman。'

　　She　did　not　answer。　A　silence　fell。　Wharton　pulled　his　mustache

impatiently　and　kept　an　eye　on　the　trail。　Grace　leaned　her　elbow　on

the　table；　her　face　set　with　resolve。　The　smile　had　died　away。

Father　Roubeau　shifted　his　ground。

　　'You　have　children？'

　　'At　one　time　I　wished…　but　now…　no。　And　I　am　thankful。'

　　'And　a　mother？'

　　'Yes。'

　　'She　loves　you？'

　　'Yes。'　Her　replies　were　whispers。

　　And　a　brother？…　no　matter；　he　is　a　man。　But　a　sister？'

　　Her　head　drooped　a　quavering　'Yes。'

　　'Younger？　Very　much？'

　　'Seven　years。'

　　'And　you　have　thought　well　about　this　matter？　About　them？　About　your

mother？　And　your　sister？　She　stands　on　the　threshold　of　her　woman's

life；　and　this　wildness　of　yours　may　mean　much　to　her。　Could　you　go

before　her；　look　upon　her　fresh　young　face；　hold　her　hand　in　yours；　or

touch　your　ch