The Way of a Man

  CHAPTER XV

  HER INFINITE VARIETY

  It was a young woman who left the step of the ambulance and stood for amoment shading her eyes with her hand and looking out over theshimmering expanse of the broad river. All at once the entire landscapewas changed. It was not the desert, but civilization which swept aboutus. A transfiguration had been wrought by one figure, fair to look upon.

  I could see that this was no newcomer in the world of the out-of-doors,however. She was turned out in what one might have called workmanlikefashion, although neat and wholly feminine. Her skirt was short, of goodgray cloth, and she wore a rather mannish coat over a blue woolen shirtor blouse. Her hands were covered with long gauntlets, and her hat was asoft gray felt, tied under the chin with a leather string, while a softgray veil was knotted carelessly about her neck as kerchief. Her facefor the time was turned from us, but I could see that her hair was darkand heavy, could see, in spite of its loose garb, that her figure wasstraight, round and slender. The swift versatility of my soul was uponthe point of calling this as fine a figure of young womanhood as I hadever seen. Now, indeed, the gray desert had blossomed as a rose.

  I was about to ask some questions of Belknap, when all at once I sawsomething which utterly changed my pleasant frame of mind. The tallfigure of a man came from beyond the line of wagons--a man clad inwell-fitting tweeds cut for riding. His gloves seemed neat, his bootsequally neat, his general appearance immaculate as that of the younglady whom he approached. I imagine it was the same swift male jealousywhich affected both Belknap and myself as we saw Gordon Orme!

  "Yes, there is your friend, the Englishman," said Belknap ratherbitterly.

  "I meet him everywhere," I answered. "The thing is simply uncanny. Whatis he doing out here?"

  "We are taking him out to Laramie with us. He has letters to ColonelMeriwether, it seems. Cowles, what do you know about that man?"

  "Nothing," said I, "except that he purports to come from the EnglishArmy."

  "I wish that he had stayed in the English Army, and not come botheringabout ours. He's prowling about every military Post he can get into."

  "With a special reference to Army officers born in the South?" I lookedBelknap full in the eye.

  "There's something in that," he replied. "I don't like the look of it.These are good times for every man to attend to his own business."

  As Orme stood chatting with the young woman, both Belknap and I turnedaway. A moment later I ran across my former friend, Mandy McGovern. Inher surprise she stopped chewing tobacco, when her eyes fell on me, butshe quickly came to shake me by the hand.

  "Well, I dee-clare to gracious!" she began, "if here ain't the man I meton the boat! How'd you git away out here ahead of us? Have you saw airybuffeler? I'm gettin' plumb wolfish fer something to shoot at. Where allyou goin', anyhow? An' whut you doin' out here?"

  What I was doing at that precise moment, as I must confess, was taking ahalf unconscious look once more toward the tail of the ambulance, whereOrme and the young woman stood chatting. But it was at this time thatOrme first saw or seemed to see me. He left the ambulance and camerapidly forward.

  "By Jove!" he said, "here you are again! Am I your shadow, Mr. Cowles,or are you mine? It is really singular how we meet. I'm awfully glad tomeet you, although I don't in the least see how you've managed to gethere ahead of us."

  Belknap by this time had turned away about his duties, and Orme and Ispoke for a few minutes. I explained to him the changes of my planswhich had been brought about by the accident to the _River Belle_."Lieutenant Belknap tells me that you are going through to Laramie withhim," I added. "As it chances, we have the same errand--it is my purposealso to call on Colonel Meriwether there, in case we do not meet himcoming down."

  "How extraordinary! Then we'll be fellow travelers for a time, and Ihope have a little sport together. Fine young fellow, Belknap. And Imust say that his men, although an uncommonly ragged looking lot andvery far from smart as soldiers, have rather a workmanlike way aboutthem, after all."

  "Yes, I think they would fight," I remarked, coolly. "And from the lookof things, they may have need to." I told him then of what he haddiscovered at the station house near by, and added the caution not tomention it about the camp. Orme's eyes merely brightened with interest.Anything like danger or adventure had appeal to him. I said to him thathe seemed to me more soldier than preacher, but he only laughed andevaded.

  "You'll eat at our mess to-night, of course" said he. "That's our firejust over there, and I'm thinking the cook is nearly ready. There comesBelknap now."

  Thus, it may be seen, the confusion of these varied meetings had kept mefrom learning the name or identity of the late passenger of theambulance. I presume both Orme and Belknap supposed that the young ladyand I had met before we took our places on the ground at the edge of theblanket which served as a table. She was seated as I finally approached,and her face was turned aside as she spoke to the camp cook, with whomshe seemed on the best of terms. "Hurry, Daniels," she called out. "I'mabsolutely starved to death!"

  There was something in her voice which sounded familiar to me, and Isought a glance at her face, which the next instant was hid by the rimof her hat as she looked down, removing her long gloves. At least I sawher hands--small hands, sun-browned now. On one finger was a plain goldring, with a peculiar setting--the figure of a rose, carved deep intothe gold!

  "After all," thought I to myself, "there are some things which can notbe duplicated. Among these, hair like this, a profile like this, afigure like this." I gazed in wonder, then in certainty.

  No there was no escaping the conclusion. This was not another girl, butthe same girl seen again. A moment's reflection showed how possible andindeed natural this might be. My chance companion in the river accidenthad simply gone on up the river a little farther and then started westprecisely as Mandy McGovern had explained.

  Belknap caught the slight restraint as the girl and I both raised oureyes. "Oh, I say, why--what in the world--Mr. Cowles, didn't you--thatis, haven't you--"

  "No," said I, "I haven't and didn't, I think. But I think also--"

  The girl's face was a trifle flushed, but her eyes were merry. "Yes,"said she, "I think Mr. Cowles and I have met once before." She slightlyemphasized the word "once," as I noticed.

  "But still I may remind you all, gentlemen," said I, "that I have notyet heard this lady's name, and am only guessing, of course, that it isMiss Meriwether, whom you are taking out to Laramie."

  "Why, of course," said Belknap, and "of course," echoed everybody else.My fair _vis-a-vis_ looked me now full in the face and smiled, so that adimple in her right cheek was plainly visible.

  "Yes," said she, "I'm going on out to join my father on the front. Thisis my second time across, though. Is it your first, Mr. Cowles?"

  "My first; and I am very lucky. You know, I also am going out to meetyour father, Miss Meriwether."

  "How singular!" She put down her tin cup of coffee on the blanket.

  "My father was an associate of Colonel Meriwether in some businessmatters back in Virginia--"

  "Oh, I know--it's about the coal lands, that are going to make us allrich some day. Yes, I know about that; though I think your father rarelycame over into Albemarle."

  Under the circumstances I did not care to intrude my personal matters,so I did not mention the cause or explain the nature of my mission inthe West. "I suppose that you rarely came into our county either, butwent down the Shenandoah when you journeyed to Washington?" I saidsimply, "I myself have never met Colonel Meriwether."

  All this sudden acquaintance and somewhat intimate relation between ustwo seemed to afford no real pleasure either to Belknap or Orme. For mypart, with no clear reason in the world, it seemed to me that bothBelknap and Orme were very detestable persons. Had the framing of thisscene been left utterly to me, I should have had none present at thefireside save myself and Ellen Meriwether. All these wide gray plains,faintly tinged in the hollows with green, and
all this sweeping sky ofblue, and all this sparkling river, should have been just for ourselvesand no one else.

  But my opportunity came in due course, after all. As we rose from theground at the conclusion of our meal, the girl dropped one of hergloves. I hastened to pick it up, walking with her a few pacesafterward.

  "The next time we are shipwrecked together," said I, "I shall leave youon the boat. You do not know your friends!"

  "Why do you say that?"

  "And yet I knew you at once. I saw the ring on your hand, and recognizedit--it is the same I saw in the firelight on the river bank, the nightwe left the _Belle_."

  "How brilliant of you! At least you can remember a ring."

  "I remember seeing the veil you wear once before--at a certain littlemeeting between Mr. Orme and myself."

  "You seem to have been a haberdasher in your time, Mr. Cowles! Yourmemory of a lady's wearing apparel is very exact. I should feel verymuch nattered." None the less I saw the dimple come in her cheek.

  She was pulling on her glove as she spoke. I saw embroidered on thegauntlet the figure of a red heart.

  "My memory is still more exact in the matter of apparel," said I. "MissMeriwether, is this your emblem indeed--this red heart? It seems to me Ihave also seen _it_ somewhere before!"

  The dimple deepened. "When Columbus found America," she answered, "it issaid that the savages looked up and remarked to him, 'Ah, we see we arediscovered!'"

  "Yes," said I, "you are fully discovered--each of you--all of you, allthree or four of you, Miss _Ellen Meriwether_."

  "But you did not know it until now--until this very moment. You did notknow me--could not remember me--not even when the masks were off! Ah, itwas good as a play!"

  "I have done nothing else but remember you."

  "How much I should value your acquaintance, Mr. Cowles of Virginia! Howrare an opportunity you have given me of seeing on the inside of a man'sheart." She spoke half bitterly, and I saw that in one way or other shemeant revenge.

  "I do not understand you," I rejoined.

  "No, I suppose you men are all alike--that any one of you would do thesame. It is only the last girl, the nearest girl, that is remembered. Isit not so?"

  "It is not so," I answered.

  "How long will you remember me this time--me or my clothes, Mr. Cowles?Until you meet another?"

  "All my life," I said; "and until I meet you again, in some otherinfinite variety. Each last time that I see you makes me forget all theothers; but never once have I forgotten _you_."

  "In my experience," commented the girl, sagely, "all men talk very muchalike."

  "Yes, I told you at the masked ball," said I, "that sometime I would seeyou, masks off. Was it not true? I did not at first know you when youbroke up my match with Orme, but I swore that sometime I would know you.And when I saw you that night on the river, it seemed to me I certainlymust have met you before--have known you always--and now--"

  "You had to study my rings and clothing to identify me with myself!"

  "But you flatter me when you say that you knew me each time," Iventured. "I am glad that I have given you no occasion to prove thetruth of your own statement, that I, like other men, am interested onlyin the last girl, the nearest girl. You have had no reason--"

  "My experience with men," went on this sage young person, "leads me tobelieve that they are the stupidest of all created creatures. There wasnever once, there is never once, when a girl does not notice a man whois--well, who is taking notice!"

  "Very well, then," I broke out, "I admit it! I did take notice of fourdifferent girls, one after the other--but it was because each of themwas fit to wipe out the image of all the others--and of all the othersin the world."

  This was going far. I was a young man. I urge no more excuse. I amsetting down simply the truth, as I have promised.

  The girl looked about, gladly, I thought, at the sound of a shufflingstep approaching. "You, Aunt Mandy?" she called out. And to me, "I mustsay good-night, sir."

  I turned away moodily, and found the embers of the fire at my own camp.Not far away I could hear the stamp of horses, the occasional sound oflow voices and of laughter, where some of the enlisted men were groupedupon the ground. The black blur made by the wagon stockade and a tent orso was visible against the lighter line of the waterway of the Platte.Night came down, brooding with its million stars. I could hear thevoices of the wolves calling here and there. It was a scene wild andappealing. I was indeed, it seemed to me, in a strange new world, whereall was young, where everything was beginning. Where was the old world Ihad left behind me?

  I rolled into my blankets, but I could not sleep. The stars were toobright, the wind too full of words, the sweep of the sky too strong. Ishifted the saddle under my head, and turned and turned, but I could notrest. I looked up again into the eye of my cold, reproving star.

  But now, to my surprise and horror, when I looked into the eye of mymonitor, my own eye would not waver nor admit subjection! I rebelled atmy own conscience. I, John Cowles, had all my life been a strong man. Ihad wrestled with any who came, fought with any who asked it, matchedwith any man on any terms he named. Conflict was in my blood, and alwaysI had fought blithely. But never with sweat like this on my forehead!Never with fear catching at my heart! Never with the agony ofself-reproach assailing me! Now, to-night, I was meeting the strongestantagonist of all my life, the only one I had ever feared.

  It was none other than I myself, that other John Cowles, young man, andnow loose in the vast, free, garden of living.

  Yet I fought with myself. I tried to banish her face from my heart--withall my might, and all my conscience, and all my remaining principles, Idid try. I called up to mind my promises, my duties, my honor. But noneof these would put her face away. I tried to forget the softness of hervoice, the fragrance of her hair, the sweetness of her body once held inmy arms, all the vague charm of woman, the enigma, the sphinx, themystery-magnet of the world, the charm that has no analysis, that knowsno formula; but I could not forget. A rage filled me against all theother men in the world. I have said I would set down the truth. Thetruth is that I longed to rise and roar in my throat, challenging allthe other men in the world. In truth it was my wish to stride overthere, just beyond, into the darkness, to take this woman by theshoulders and tell her what was in my blood and in my heart--even thoughI must tell her even in bitterness and self-reproach.

  It was not the girl to whom I was pledged and plighted, not she to whomI was bound in honor--that was not the one with the fragrant hair andthe eyes of night, and the clear-cut face, and the graciouslydeep-bosomed figure--that was not the one. It was another, of infinitevariety, one more irresistible with each change, that had set on thiscombat between me and my own self.

  I beat my fists upon the earth. All that I could say to myself was thatshe was sweet, sweet, and wonderful--here in the mystery of this wide,calm, inscrutable desert that lay all about, in a world young and strongand full of the primeval lusts of man.