XXXIV. TO FIT HER FINGER
It was two rings that the Virginian wrote for when next I heard fromhim.
After my dark sight of what the Cattle Land could be, I soon hadjourneyed home by way of Washakie and Rawlins. Steve and Shorty did notleave my memory, nor will they ever, I suppose.
The Virginian had touched the whole thing the day I left him. He hadnoticed me looking a sort of farewell at the plains and mountains.
"You will come back to it," he said. "If there was a headstone for everyman that once pleasured in his freedom here, yu'd see one most everytime yu' turned your head. It's a heap sadder than a graveyard--but yu'love it all the same."
Sadness had passed from him--from his uppermost mood, at least, whenhe wrote about the rings. Deep in him was sadness of course, as well asjoy. For he had known Steve, and he had covered Shorty with earth. Hehad looked upon life with a marksman's eyes, very close; and no one,if he have a heart, can pass through this and not carry sadness in hisspirit with him forever. But he seldom shows it openly; it bides withinhim, enriching his cheerfulness and rendering him of better service tohis fellow-men.
It was a commission of cheerfulness that he now gave, being distantfrom where rings are to be bought. He could not go so far as the Eastto procure what he had planned. Rings were to be had in Cheyenne, and astill greater choice in Denver; and so far as either of these towns hisaffairs would have permitted him to travel. But he was set upon havingrings from the East. They must come from the best place in the country;nothing short of that was good enough "to fit her finger," as he said.The wedding ring was a simple matter. Let it be right, that was all:the purest gold that could be used, with her initials and his togethergraven round the inside, with the day of the month and the year.
The date was now set. It had come so far as this. July third was to bethe day. Then for sixty days and nights he was to be a bridegroom, freefrom his duties at Sunk Creek, free to take his bride wheresoever shemight choose to go. And she had chosen.
Those voices of the world had more than angered her; for after the angera set purpose was left. Her sister should have the chance neither tocome nor to stay away. Had her mother even answered the Virginian'sletter, there could have been some relenting. But the poor lady had beeninadequate in this, as in all other searching moments of her life: shehad sent messages,--kind ones, to be sure,--but only messages. If thishad hurt the Virginian, no one knew it in the world, least of all thegirl in whose heart it had left a cold, frozen spot. Not a good spiritin which to be married, you will say. No; frozen spots are not good atany time. But Molly's own nature gave her due punishment. Through allthese days of her warm happiness a chill current ran, like those whichinterrupt the swimmer's perfect joy. The girl was only half as happyas her lover; but she hid this deep from him,--hid it until that final,fierce hour of reckoning that her nature had with her,--nay, was boundto have with her, before the punishment was lifted, and the frozen spotmelted at length from her heart.
So, meanwhile, she made her decree against Bennington. Not Vermont,but Wyoming, should be her wedding place. No world's voices should bewhispering, no world's eyes should be looking on, when she made her vowto him and received his vow. Those voices should be spoken and that ringput on in this wild Cattle Land, where first she had seen him ride intothe flooded river, and lift her ashore upon his horse. It was this opensky which should shine down on them, and this frontier soil upon whichtheir feet should tread. The world should take its turn second.
After a month with him by stream and canyon, a month far deeper into themountain wilds than ever yet he had been free to take her, a month withsometimes a tent and sometimes the stars above them, and only theirhorses besides themselves--after such a month as this, she would takehim to her mother and to Bennington; and the old aunt over at Dunbartonwould look at him, and be once more able to declare that the Starks hadalways preferred a man who was a man.
And so July third was to be engraved inside the wedding ring. Upon theother ring the Virginian had spent much delicious meditation, all in hissecret mind. He had even got the right measure of her finger without hersuspecting the reason. But this step was the final one in his plan.
During the time that his thoughts had begun to be busy over the otherring, by a chance he had learned from Mrs. Henry a number of old fanciesregarding precious stones. Mrs. Henry often accompanied the Judge inventuresome mountain climbs, and sometimes the steepness of the rocksrequired her to use her hands for safety. One day when the Virginianwent with them to help mark out certain boundary corners, she removedher rings lest they should get scratched; and he, being just behind her,took them during the climb.
"I see you're looking at my topaz," she had said, as he returned them."If I could have chosen, it would have been a ruby. But I was born inNovember."
He did not understand her in the least, but her words awakened exceedinginterest in him; and they had descended some five miles of mountainbefore he spoke again. Then he became ingenious, for he had half workedout what Mrs. Henry's meaning must be; but he must make quite sure.Therefore, according to his wild, shy nature, he became ingenious.
"Men wear rings," he began. "Some of the men on the ranch do. I don'tsee any harm in a man's wearin' a ring. But I never have."
"Well," said the lady, not yet suspecting that he was undertaking tocircumvent her, "probably those men have sweethearts."
"No, ma'am. Not sweethearts worth wearin' rings for--in two cases,anyway. They won 'em at cyards. And they like to see 'em shine. I neversaw a man wear a topaz."
Mrs. Henry did not have any further remark to make.
"I was born in January myself," pursued the Virginian, verythoughtfully.
Then the lady gave him one look, and without further process of mindperceived exactly what he was driving at.
"That's very extravagant for rings," said she. "January is diamonds."
"Diamonds," murmured the Virginian, more and more thoughtfully. "Well,it don't matter, for I'd not wear a ring. And November is--what did yu'say, ma'am?"
"Topaz."
"Yes. Well, jewels are cert'nly pretty things. In the Spanish Missionsyu'll see large ones now and again. And they're not glass, I think. Andso they have got some jewel that kind of belongs to each month rightaround the twelve?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Henry, smiling. "One for each month. But the opal iswhat you want."
He looked at her, and began to blush.
"October is the opal," she added, and she laughed outright, for MissWood's birthday was on the fifteenth of that month.
The Virginian smiled guiltily at her through his crimson.
"I've no doubt you can beat around the bush very well with men," saidMrs. Henry. "But it's perfectly transparent with us--in matters ofsentiment, at least."
"Well, I am sorry," he presently said. "I don't want to give her anopal. I have no superstition, but I don't want to give her an opal. Ifher mother did, or anybody like that, why, all right. But not from me.D' yu' understand, ma'am?"
Mrs. Henry did understand this subtle trait in the wild man, and sherejoiced to be able to give him immediate reassurance concerning opals.
"Don't worry about that," she said. "The opal is said to bring ill luck,but not when it is your own month stone. Then it is supposed to be notonly deprived of evil influence, but to possess peculiarly fortunatepower. Let it be an opal ring."
Then he asked her boldly various questions, and she showed him herrings, and gave him advice about the setting. There was no specialcustom, she told him, ruling such rings as this he desired to bestow.The gem might be the lady's favorite or the lover's favorite; and tochoose the lady's month stone was very well indeed.
Very well indeed, the Virginian thought. But not quite well enough forhim. His mind now busied itself with this lore concerning jewels, andsoon his sentiment had suggested something which he forthwith carriedout.
When the ring was achieved, it was an opal, but set with four smallembracing diamonds. Thus was her month stone joine
d with his, that theirluck and their love might be inseparably clasped.
He found the size of her finger one day when winter had departed, andthe early grass was green. He made a ring of twisted grass for her,while she held her hand for him to bind it. He made another for himself.Then, after each had worn their grass ring for a while, he begged herto exchange. He did not send his token away from him, but most carefullymeasured it. Thus the ring fitted her well, and the lustrous flamewithin the opal thrilled his heart each time he saw it. For now June wasnear its end; and that other plain gold ring, which, for safe keeping,he cherished suspended round his neck day and night, seemed to burn withan inward glow that was deeper than the opal's.
So in due course arrived the second of July. Molly's punishment had gotas far as this: she longed for her mother to be near her at this time;but it was too late.