The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1892-08-07
Tho Story of a Wait
BY BRET HARrE.
CnApTEn /.

CHAPTER l.
Whore the San Lcandro turnpike stretches
its dusty. hot, and intcrminabe length along
the valley. at n point whore tho heat and dust
havo become ntolerablc, tho monotonous ex-
pnnse OF wild oats on either side unbearabic.
and tho distant horizon apparently remcter
than ever. It suddenly slips hctwcon stuntcd
thicket or hedge of scrub oaks which until
that momcnt had been unlistingulsh-
oble above the long, misty, Quivering level
OF the grain. The thickot rising grad
ually in height. but with regular
slope whose gradient bad been determined by
centuries OF west trade winds. presently be-
comes a fair wood OF live oak. and few hun
dred yards further Mt last assumes tho aspect
OF primeval forest A delicious GOODNESS ILLS
the air; tho long. shadowy nisles greet the
aching eye with soothing twilight: the MUIR
muir OF unseen brooks Is heard. and by
strange irony the enormous widely spaced
stacks OF Wild oats are replaced by u
carpet OF tiny-lenvod MOSES and chick
wood at tho root OF trees, and the mi
nutest clover In moro oron spaces. The
baked and cracked adobe soil OF the
now forgotten plains is exchanged for
q heavy red IMMORAL dust and gravel. rocks
and boulders make their appearance. and at
times tho road is crossed by the white veins OF
quartz. 1t is still the San LcanIro turnpike
q few miles later to rise from this canada into
tho upper plains again-tut it Is also tho
actual gateway and avenue 10 the Robes
Rancho. Whom tho departing visitors OF Judge
Peyton-now owner OF the rancho-reach tho
outer plains again after twenty minutes
drive from tho house. the canada. rancho. and
avenue have as completely disappeared from
view as II swallowed up in the plain.
cross road from tho turnpike is the usual
approach to the casa or mansion-a long low
quadrangle OF brown adobe wall in bare hut
gently sloping emlnenco. For hero a second
surprise meets tho stranger Ho seems to have
emerged from the forest upon another llimit-
able plain. but one utterly trackless. wild. and
desolate. 1t is, however. only a lower terrace
Of the same valley. and in fact comprises
the three square leagues Of tho Robes Rancho.
Uncutivated and savage rs 1t appears-riven
over to wild cattle and horsos that sometimes
sweep in frightened bands around the very
casa itself-the long south wall Of tho corral
embraces an orchard OF gnarled pear
trees, an old vineyard, and q venerable
garden OF olives and oranges. A manor. for
merry granted by Charles V. to Don Vicente
Robes OF Andalusia. OF pious and ascctic men,
DRY. it had commended itself to Judge Peyton
OF Kentucky. modern hereto pioneer OF
bookish tastes and secluded habits. who had
bought it OF Don Vicente's descendants. Hore
Judge Peyton seemed to have realized his
idea OF a perfect climate. and a retirement
half studious. half active. with something Of
tho segnoralty Of tho old slave holder that no
had been. Here too he had seen the hope OF
restoring his wife's health-tor which he had
undertaken the overland emicration-more
than fulfilled in Mrs. Peyton's improved physi-
cal condition. albeit at the expense. perhaps.
OF some OF tho languorous graces of aiinC
American wifehood.
1t was with curious recognition OF this lat
fn~ khaN V,,lrv ,r.1,1
crossing the patio or courtyard with her arm
around the neck OF her adopted daughter SUI
zette. sudden memory crossed his mind OF
the first day that he had soon them together
the day that he brought the child and her boy
companion. two cstrays from an emigrant
train on tho plains. to his wife in camp. Ger
tainy Mrs Peyton was stouter and stronger
fibred: the wonderful Californian climate
had materiallZed her figure. as 1t had their
Eastern fruits and lowers-but it was stranger
that Susy. tho child of hom"lier frontier blood
and parentngc. whose wholesome peasant
plumrness had at first attracted them. should
have grown thinner and moro graceful. and
even seem oil t. have gained the delicacy his
wife had lost. Six years had imporccptbly
wrought this change: it had never struck him
before 30 forcibly as on this day of Susy's
regular return from tho convent school at
Sante Clara for the holidays.
Tho woman and child had reached the broad
veranda, which on ono side OF the patio re-
placed the old Spanish corridor. 1t was the
single modern innovation that Pcyton had al
lowed himself when he had broken tho auud-
rangular symmetry Of the old house with a
wooden "anneXe' or addition beyond the walls
1t made pleasant lounging place. Swallowed
from the hot midday sun by sloIinG roofs
and awnings and sheltered from the loister-
GUS afternoon trade winds by tho opposite
side OF the court. But Susy did not Soon
Inclined to lnger there long. In spite Of Mrs.
Peyton's evident desire for Il maternal t,te-A-
tete: tho nervous prcoccupation and capri
clous ennui Of an INDUCED child showed in
her pretty but discontinued face. and knit
her curved eyebrows. and Peyton saw n look
OF pain pass over his wife's face as the young
girl suddenly and half-laughingy broke
away and fiuttered of to the old garden.
Mrs. iPoyton looked up and caught her hus-
bands eye. I'm afraid Susy finds it more
dull here every timo she returns" she said
with an apooGetic smile. Il am glad she has
invited one OF her school friends to come for
visit tomorrow You know yourself. john"
she added with slight partisan attitude.
that the lonely old house aud wild plain IL
not particularly lively for young people. how
ever much 1t may suit your ways"
1t certainly must be dull il sho can't stand
It for three weeks in the year" said her hus-
band. dryly. " But We really cannot open tho
Ban Francisco house for her summer vacation,
nor oan We move from tho Rancho to n moro
fashionable locality. Besides. it will do hor
good to run wild here / can remember when
she wasn't SO fastidious In fact. was think
Ing Just now how changed she was from the
day when We picked her up"
How often an to remind you. John" in
corrupted tho lady with some impatience.
that we agreed never to speak of her past or
even to think OF her as anything but our own
child. You know how it pains mol And tho
poor dear herself has forgotten 1t. and THINKS
OH only as her own parents. really believe
that II that wretched father and mother OF
hers had not been killed by the lndians, or
We're to come to lifo again. she would neither
know them nor care for them. | mean. OF
course JOHN she said. avcrting her eyes
fron q slightly cynical smile on her husban d's
face. that 1t 5 only natural for children to le
forgetful and ready to take now Impressions -