_Chapter V_
"But, my darling daughter," gasped Mrs. Gaynor, "you don't in the leastunderstand what you are about!"
"But, my darling mother," mimicked Miss Gloria, light of tone but withall of the calm assurance of her years, "I do know exactly what I amabout! I always do. And anyway," with a Frenchy little shrug which shehad adopted and adapted last season, "I am going."
"But," exclaimed her mother, already routed, as was inevitable, and nowlooking toward the essential considerations, "what in the world willevery one say? And think?"
In the tall mirror before her Gloria regarded her boots andriding-breeches critically. Then her little hat and the blue flannelshort. Too mannish? Never, with Gloria in them, an expression in verycharming curves of triumphant girlhood.
"What in the world was Mark King thinking of?" demanded her mother.
"What do you suppose?" said Gloria tranquilly "He would have been veryrude if he hadn't been thinking of your little daughter. Besides, he hadvery little to do with the matter."
"Gloria!"
"And, what is more, there was a moon. Remember that, mamma." She tiedthe big scarlet silk handkerchief about her throat and turned to bekissed. Mrs. Gaynor looked distressed; there were actually tears tryingto invade her troubled eyes, and her hands were nervous.
"But you will be gone all day!"
"Oh, mamma!" Gloria began to grow impatient. "What if I am? Mr. King isa gentleman, isn't he? He isn't going to eat me, is he? Why do you makesuch a fuss over it all? Do you want to spoil everything for me?"
"You know I don't! But----"
"We've had nothing but 'buts' since I told you. I should have left you anote and slipped out." She bestowed upon the worried face a peckinglittle kiss and tiptoed to the door.
"Wait, Gloria! What shall I tell every one? They're your _guests_, afterall----"
"Tell them I asked to be excused for the day. Beyond that you are rathergood at smoothing out things. I'll trust you."
"But--I mean _and_--and Mr. Gratton?"
"Oh, tell him to go to the devil!" cried Gloria. "It will do him no endof good." And while Mrs. Gaynor stared after her she closed the doorsoftly and went tiptoeing downstairs and out into the brightening dawn,where Mark King awaited her with the horses.
From behind a window-curtain Gloria's mother watched the girl trippingaway through the meadow to the stable, set back among the trees. Kingwas leading the saddled horses to meet her; Gloria gave him hergauntleted hand in a greeting the degree of friendliness of which wasgauged by the clever eyes at the window; friendliness already arrived ata stage of intimacy. King lifted Gloria into her saddle; Gloria's littlelaugh had in it a flutter of excitement as her cavalier's strength tookher by delighted surprise and off her feet. They rode away through thethinning shadows. Mrs. Gaynor, despite the earliness of the hour, wentstraight to her husband, awoke him mercilessly, and told him everything.
"Oh," he said when she had done and he had turned over for another houror so of sleep, "that's all right. Mark told me about it last night."
"And you didn't say a word to me!"
"Forgot," said Ben. "But don't worry. Mark'll take care of her."
She left him to his innocent slumbers and began dressing. Already shewas busied with planning just what to say and how to say it; Gloriaknew, she thought with some complacency, that her mother could bedepended upon in any situation demanding the delicate touch. She wouldbe about, cool and smiling, when the first guest appeared; it would besupposed that she and Gloria and Mr. King had been quite a merry trio asthe morning adventure was being arranged. That first guest stirringwould be Mr. Gratton on hand to pounce on Gloria and get her out of thehouse for a run down to the lake, a dash in a canoe, or a brief strollacross the meadow before the breakfast-gong. Instead of Gloria's tersemessage for him, she had quite an elaborate and laughing tale to tell.After all, Gloria usually did know what she was about, and if Mr.Gratton meant all that he looked--Mrs. Gaynor had cast up a rough draftof everything she would say that morning before she opened the door togo downstairs. And for reasons very clear to her and which she had nodoubt would be viewed with equal clarity by Gloria after this "escapade"of hers was done with, she meant to be very tactful indeed with Mr.Gratton.
* * * * *
Never had Mark King known pleasanter companionship than Gloria Gaynorafforded this bright morning. They passed up the trail, over the firstridge, dropped down into a tiny wild little valley, and had the worldall alone to themselves. Only now was the sun up, and there in themountains, blazing forth cheerily, it seemed to shine for them alone.When they rode side by side Gloria chatted brightly, athrill withanimation, vivid with her rioting youth. When the narrow trail demandedand she rode ahead, bright little snatches of lilting song or brokenexclamations floated back to the man whose eyes shone with his enjoymentof her. On every hand this was all a bright new world to her; she hadnever run wild in the hills as her mother had done through her girlhood;she had never been particularly interested in all of this sprawlingruggedness. Now she had a hundred eager questions; she saw the shiningsplendour of the solitudes through King's eyes; she turned to him withfull confidence for the name of a flower, the habit of a bird, eventhough the latter, unseen among the trees, had only announced himself bya half-dozen enraptured notes.
Yesterday, surrendering her volatile self to a very natural and quiteinnocent feminine instinct, Gloria had fully determined to parade MarkKing before her envious friends as very much her own property. It wasmerely a bit of the game, the old, old game at which she, being richlyfavoured by nature, was as skilful as a girl of eighteen or nineteencould possibly be. In the eternal skirmish she was an enterprising youngsavage with many scalps dangling from her triumphant belt. The pettedpompadour of poor Archie, the curly locks of Teddy, the stiff blackbrush of Mr. Gratton were to have an added fellow in King's trophy. Thenshe had caught a word between her father and his friend; had heardHoneycutt mentioned and a ride to Coloma, and on the break of theinstant had determined with a young will which invariably wentunthwarted, that high adventure was beckoning her. A ride on horsebackthrough the mountains with a man who had stirred her more than a little,who filled her romantic fancies with picturesque glamour, who was on aquest of which she knew ten times more than he had any idea she knew.And that quest itself! Pure golden glamour everywhere.
Hence, some few minutes afterward, in a cosy nook of the verandah whilethe others danced, the moon and Gloria were serenely victorious. King,once assured that the long ride was not too hard for her, saw noslightest reason for objecting to her coming; he did not think of all ofthat which would mean so much to Ben's wife--the conventions and whatwould people say. Conventions do not thrive in such regions as the highSierra. Ben, to whom King mentioned the thing, looked at it quite as didhis friend. Gloria would be in good hands and ought to have a corkinggood time; he wished he could get away to go along. So King telephonedto San Francisco, arranged to have three thousand dollars--in cash--sentimmediately to him at Coloma, and to-day fancied himself strictlyattending to business with an undivided mind.
"I know now where the original Garden of Eden was!" Gloria, turning tolook back at him as he came on through a delightful flowery uplandmeadow, sat her horse gracefully upon a slight hillock, herself and herrestless mount bathed in sunshine, her cheeks warm with the flush uponthem, her lips red with coursing life, her eyes dancing. "It's perfectlylovely. It's pure heavenly!"
King nodded and smiled. He was not given to many words, grown taciturnas are mountaineers inevitably, trained in long habit to approve insilence of that which pleased him most. So, while Gloria's eager tonguetripped along as busily as the brooks they forded, he was for the mostpart silent. An extended arm to point out a big snow-plant, blood-redagainst a little heap of snow, was as eloquent as the spoken word. Thushe indicated much that might have passed unnoticed by Gloria, keenlyenjoying her lively admiration.
To-day he chose always the easier trails, since wit
h the good horsesunder them they had ample time to come to Loony Honeycutt's place wellbefore midday. Also they stopped frequently, King making an excuse ofshowing her points of interest; the tiny valley where one could be sureof a glimpse of a brown bear, the grazing-lands of mountain deer, thepass into the cliff-bound hiding-place of the picturesque highwaymen ofan earlier day whence they drove stolen horses into Nevada, where theysecreted other horses stolen in Nevada and to be disposed of down in theSacramento Valley. There lasted until this very day the ruins of theirrock house, snuggled into the mountains under their lookout-point.
"It would be fun," said Gloria, the spell of the wilderness mysteriesupon her, her eyes half wistful and altogether serious, "to be lost outhere. Just to get far, far away from people and ever so close to the bigold mountains. Wouldn't it?" And a few minutes later she drew in herhorse and cried out softly: "Listen!" She herself was listeningbreathlessly. "It sounds like the ocean ever so far off. Or--or likeshouting voices a million miles away. Or like the mountains themselveswhispering. It is hard to believe, isn't it? that it is just the wind inthe pines."
Another time, while, under the pretext of letting their horses blow,King had suggested a short halt to give the girl a chance to rest, shesaid with abruptness:
"What do you think of Mr. Gratton?"
Already she knew Mark King well enough to realize that he would eitherrefuse to answer or would speak his mind without beating about the bush.
"I don't like him," said King.
Gloria looked thoughtful.
"Neither do I," she said. "Not up here in the mountains. And down in SanFrancisco I thought him rather splendid. What is more, if we werewhisked back to San Francisco this minute, I'd probably think him fineagain."
She appeared interested in the consideration, and when they rode on wassilent, obviously turning the matter over and over in mind.
* * * * *
To-day were three mysteries tremblingly close to revealing themselvesone to another: the great green mystery of the woodlands; the mystery ofa man clothed in his masculinity as in an outer garment; the tendermystery of a young girl athrill with romance, effervescent with youth,her own thoughts half veiled from herself, her instincts alive andurgent, and often all in confusion. How could a man like Mark King quiteunderstand a girl like Gloria? How could a girl like Gloria, with all ofher surety of her own decisions, understand a man like King? Eachglimpsed that day much of the other's true character, and yet all thewhile the mainsprings were just out of sight, unguessed, undreamed of.
At Gloria's age, if one be a girl and very pretty and made much of byadoring parents and a host of boys and men, the world is an extremelynice place inhabited exclusively by individuals pressing forward to doher reverence. She is beautiful, she is vivacious, filled with delight;she is a sparkling fountainhead of joy. She is so superabundantlysupplied with eager happiness that she radiates happiness. If she thinksa very great deal of herself, so for that matter does every otherindividual in the world; it is merely that with all of hersophistication she remains much more naive than she would ever believe;she is a coquette because she is female; she is pleased with herself andwith the high excuse that every one else is pleased with her. Hence shedemands adoration as a right. If she rides on a street-car she fullyexpects that the conductor will regard her admiringly and that themotorman will turn his head after her. She doesn't expect to marryeither of these gentlemen; she does not particularly require theirflattering attentions.... Gloria did not expect to marry Archie or Teddyor Mr. Gratton; she had no thought of being any one's wife; that term,after all, at Gloria's age, is a drab and humdrum thing. She did notdream of Mark King as a possible husband; another unromantic title. Shemerely hungered for male admiration. It was the wine of life, the breathin her nostrils. As it happens to be to some countless millions of othergirls.... All of which is so clearly a pretty nearly universal conditionthat it would seem that if Mark King had had his wits about him he musthave realized it. And yet had he glimpsed that which should have been soobvious he would have been startled, somewhat shocked, and would havegrieved over his friend's empty-headed daughter, holding herunmaidenly--when she was but dallying with dreams which mean so much toall maidens.
But Gloria did not say to him: "Mark King, I am determined that youshall adore me, pretty face, pretty figure, pretty ways and all." Noryet to herself did she put things so baldly. She did, however, yieldherself luxuriously to the springtime, the romance of the hour, theappeal of her latest cavalier, and preen herself like a mating bird.King saw, admired, and in his own fashion played his own part. It wasnot clear to him that there had been a new pleasure in his own strengthwhen he had lifted her into her saddle, and yet her little breathlesslaugh had rung musically in his ears. Had a man arisen to announce,jibingly, that Mark King was "showing off" before a girl like a boy often, though within bounds, he would have called the man a liar andforthwith have kicked him out of the landscape ... They rode on, side byside, each content with seeing only that which lay on the surface--bothof his companion and of himself. In a word, they were living lifenaturally, without demanding of the great theatrical manager to knowexactly what parts they were to play in the human comedy. Externalssufficed just now; the fragrant still forests, the pulse-stirringsunshine, the warm, fruitful earth below and the blue sky above.
From the first he called her Gloria quite naturally; to her he was Mr.King. But the "Mark" slipped out before they came into sight of theroofs of picturesque Coloma.