Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-06-29
A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE.
By BRET HARTE.
FIRST PART.
CHAPTER 1.

CHAPTER 1.
She was barely twenty-three years old.
Ii is probable that up to that age, and the
beginning of this episode, her life had
been uneventful. Born to the easy me-
diOcrity of such compromising extremes
as a small farmhouse and large lands,
good position and no society In that vast
grazing district OF Kentucky known as
the Blue Grass region, all the POSSIBLE
ties Of a Western American girls exist
ence lay before her. A piano in the bare
walled house, the latest patented mower
in the limitless meadows, and silk dress
sweeping the rough floor Of the implanted
injecting house, were already the prom
ise of those possibilities. Beautiful she
was. but the power Of that beauty was
limited by being equally shared with her
few neighbOrs. There were small, mar
row. arched feet besides her own that trod
the uucarpeted floors of outlying log
cabins with equal grace and dignity;
bright. clearly opened eyes that were
equally capable of looking unabashed
upon princes and pOtentates-as few
later did-and the heiress OF the County
Judge read her own beauty without envy
in the frank glances and uncovered crest
of the blaeksmith's daughter. Eventu-
ally she had married the male of her spe-
cies. a Young stranger, who, as school
to some local extent a scant capital of
education. In obedience to the unwritten
law of the West, after the marriage was
celebrated the doors of the ancestral home
cheerfully opened, and bride and bride
groom issued forth without regret and
without sentiment to seek the further pos
sibilities of a life beyond these already
too familiar voices. With their departure
for California as Mr.. and Mrs. Spencer
Tucker, the parental nest in the Blue
Grass meadows knew them no more.
They submitted with equal cheerfulness
TO the privatiOns and excuses of their
new conditions. Within three years the
schOOlmaster developed into lawyer and
capitalist, the Blue Grass bride supplying
a grace and ease to these transitions that
were all her own. She sOftened the alb
ruptness Of sudden wealth, mitigated the
austerities of the newly acquired power,
and made the most glarlng incOngruity pic
furesdue. Only one thing seemed to limit
their progress in the region of these pos
sibilities. They were childless. 1t was
as if they had exhausted the future in
their own youth, leaving little or notAlhS
for another generation to do.
A southwesterly storm was beating
against the dressing-rOOm windows of
their new house in one OF the hilly sub
IIrbs Of san Francisco, and threatening
the unreasonable friYolity of the stucco
ornamentatiOn of cornice and balcony.
Mrs. Tucker had been called from the
contemplation of the dreary. prospect
without, BY the arrival of visitor. On
entering the drawing-rOom she found him
engaged in a halfadmiring, half-resentful
examination of its new furniture and
hangings. Mrs. Tucker at once recog-
nized Mr.. CalhOuIfW eaver, a former Blue
Grass neighbor; with swift feminine In
tuition she also felt that his slight an
NamH-- 70 h Marmnn TO- y
from her furniture to herself. WalVing II
with the lazy amiability of Southern III
difference. she welcomed him by the IA
miliarity Of Christian name.
81 reckoned that mebbe you Opined old
Blue Grass friends wouldn't naturally
hitch on 10 them fancy doin's!' he said,
glancing around the apartment to avoid
her clear eyes, as If resOlutely setting
himself against the old charm of her man.
ner as ne had against the more recent
glory of her surroundings; ''but thought
I'd lust drop in for the sake of old
times"
.sWbv shouldn't you. Cal!D said Mrs
Tucker with a frank smile.
ESPECIALLY as I'm gong up to Sacra.
ment0 tonight with some influential
friends he continued with an OStenta.
ton calculated to resist the assumption
Of her charms and her furniture. "Sena
tor Dyce OF Kentucky and his cousin
Judge Briggs-perhaps you know 'em, OF
may be Spencer mean Mr.. Tucker
does"
shut tell me something about the boys
and girls at NmeYille-and about your
SELF You're looking we'll, and right smart
too" She paused TO give due emphasis tC
this latter recognition of huge gold chain
with which her visitor was somewhat os-
tentatiOusly trifiing.
Il didn't know as you cared to hear
anything about Blue Grass" he returned
a little abashed. ''l'ye been away from
there some time myself" he added, his
uneasy vanity taking fresh alarm at the
faint suspicion Of patronage on the par
of his hostess. They're d0in' we'll
thOugh-perhaps as well as some Others
"And you're not married yet" con
tinued Mrs. Tucker, ObliviOus Of the innu
endo. ssAh, CAL" she added archly, 81
am afraid you are as hekle as ever
What poor girl in Nineyille have you left
piningf'
The simple face of the man before hel
flushed with foolish qualification at this
old-fashiOued ambiguous iattery. Snow,
look yer. Belle" he said, chuckiing, "ii
you're talking Of old times, and you
think 1 bear malice agin Spencer, why
But Mrs. Tucker interrupted what
might have been an lnOppOrtune senti
mental retrospect with a finger of arch
but languid warning. "That will dol
I'm diving TO know all about il, and you
must stay to dinner and tell me. It's right
mean YOU can't see Spencer, too; but be
isn't back from Sacramento yet"
Grateful as a tete-d-tete with his old
neighbOr in her more prosperous sur
rOundiugs would have beeD-n only for
the sake of later g0ssiping about 1.-THE
felt IL would be inconsistent with his pride
and his assumption of present business.
More than that. he was uneasily conscious
that in Mrs. fuckers simple and unai-
fected manner there was a greater supe-
riority than he had ever noticed during
their previous acquaintance. He would
have felt kinder to her had she shown any
s.airs and graces,' which he could have
commented upon and forgiven. He stam-
mered some excuse of preOccupation. yet
fingered in the hope of saying something
which. if not aggressively unpleasant.
might at least transfer to her ind0lent
serenity some of his own irritation. IL
reckon" he said, as he moved hesit.. tingly
toward the door, ssthat Spencer has made
himself easy and secure in them business
risks he's taking. That 'ere Alameda
ditch affair they're talking so much about
is a mighty big thing-rather too big il il
ever got to falling back on him. But l
suppose he's accustomed to take risks?'
''Of course he is" said Mrs. Tucker
gayly. He married me-
The visitor smiled feebly. but was not
equal to the opportunity offered for gal
liant Republication. ''But suppose you ain t
accustomed TO risks?''
'sWhy not: married him,' said Mrs.
Tucker.
Mr.. Calhoun Weaver was human, and
succumbed to this last charming audacity
He broke into a noisy but genuine laugh.
shook Mrs. fuckers hand with eifusi0n,
said, Now that's regular Blue Grass and