Fort Worth gazette. [volume] (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1891-1898, 1892-02-14
II THREE PARSLEY BRET HARTE<
Copyright, 1899, by the Author.


! will only ask you that when you are ready
F, to receive the papers you viii fly small
red pennant from the little flagstaff among
| the rocks. Believe me your friend and
grateful debtor, w. M.
Mrs. Bunker cast hasty glance around
! her, and pressed the letter TO her lips.
| It was a sudden contamination of her
| vaguest, half-1ormed wishes, the realization
| OF her widest dreamsl To be the confdaut
| of the gallant but melancholy hero IN his
| lonely exile and persecution was to satisfy
all the unformulated romantic fancies of
| her girlish reading. To be later, perhaps,
| the Flora Macdonald of q middle-aged
Prince Charlie did not, however, evoke any
| ludicrous associations in her mind Her
feminine fancy exalted the escaped duelisti
and alleged assassin into a social martyr.
| His actual small political intrigues and
| lgnoble aims of oIice seemed to her little
different from those aspirations of royalty
which she.had read about-as perhaps they
| were. Indeed, it is to be feared that in
| foolish little Mrs. Bunker, Wynyard Ma
rion had found the old feminine alteration
| of pretension and privilege which every
rascal has taken advantage of since the
! flood.
| Howbeit, the next morning after she had
returned and Zephas had sailed away she
| flew red bandanna handkerchief on the
! little flagstaff before the house. A few
! hours later boat appeared mysteriously
| from around the Point. Its only occupant
| "a common sailor-asked her name, and
! handed her a sealed package. Mrs. Bunk
| er's invention had already been at work.
She had created an aunt in Mexico, for
whom she had, with some ostentatiou,
made some small purchases while IN San
Francisco. When her husband spoke of
going as far south as Todos Santos, she
begged him to deliver the parcel to her
aunt'S messenger, and even addressed it
boldly to her, Inside the outer wrapper
she wrote note TO Marion, which, with q
new and amazing diffidence, she composed
and altered dozen times, at last address
ing the following in large, schoolgirl
hand: Sir, obey your commands to the
last. Whatever your oppressors or enc
mics may do, you can always rely and trust
upon She who in deepest sympathy signs
herself ever. Mollie Rosalie MacEwan."
The substitution of her maiden name in full
seemed in her simplicity to be delicate
exclusion Of her husband from the affair,
and a certain disguise of herself to
alien eyes The superscription, ''To Mrs. .
Marion MacEwan from Mollie Bunker, to
be called for by hand at Todos Santos"
also struck her as a marvel OF ingenuity
The package was safely and punctually de-
hvered by Zephas, who brought back
small packet directed to her, which, on pri-
vate examination, proved TO contain letter
addressed to j. q. Kirby, to be called for.n
with the hurried line: "a Thousand thanks.
w. M" Mrs. Bunker drew a long, quick
breath. He might have written more; he
might have - but the wish remained still
unformulated. The next day she ran up
signal; the same boat and solitary rover
appeared around the point and took the
package. a week later, when her husband
was ready for sea, she again hoisted her
signal. 1t brought return package for
Mexico, which she inclosed and readdressed
and gave to her husband. The recurrence
of this incident apparently struck bright
idea from the simple Zephas.
Look here, Mollie why don't you come
yourself and see your aunt? l can't go into
port without a license, and them port
charges cost heap o. red tape, for they've
got dlibustering scare on down there just
now, but you can so ashore in the boat and
III get permission from the secretary to
stand on and wait for you there for twenty
four hours" Mrs. Bunker flushed and
paled at the thought. She could see him
The letter would be sufficient excuse, the
distrust suggested by her husband would
give color to her delivering it in person.
There was, perhaps, brief twinge of con-
science in thus taking advantage of Zeppa's
kindness, but the next moment, with that
peculiar logic known only to the sex. she
made the unfortunate mans suggestion q
conformation of her deceit. She hadn't
asked TO go; he had offered to take her. He
had only himself to thank.
But the political excitement in which she
had become partisan without understand |
ing or even conviction, presently culmi- |
mated with the presidential campaign and |
election of Abraham Lincoln. The in |
trIgueS of Southern statesmen were re- |
yealed in open expression, and echoed in |
California by those citizens of Southern |
birth and extraction who had long held |
place, power and opinion there. There |
were rumorS of secession, of California |
mr. n IN
independent Pacific empire. A note for ~. |
e. Kirby'' informed Mrs. Bunker that she |
was TO carefully retain any correspondence |
that might be in her hands until further Or |
ders, almost at the same time that Zephas |
as regretfully told her that his projected |
southern trip had been suspended. Mrs |
Bunker was disappointed, and yet in some |
singular conditions of her feelings, felt re- |
lieved that her meeting with Marion was |
postponed. 1t is to be feared that some |
dim conviction, unworthy partisan, that in |
the magnitude of political events her own |
pretty personality might be overlooked by |
her hero tended somewhat to her resigna-
ton.
Meanwhile the seasons had changed. |
The winter rains had set in; the trade |
winds had shifted to the southeast; and |
the cottage, although strengthened, en-
larged and made more comfortable through |
the good fortunes OF the Bunkers was no |
longer sheltered by the cliff, but was ex-
posed to the full strength of the Pacific
gales. There were long nights when she
could hear the rain fall anonymously on |
the Shingles, or startle her with short,
sharp reveille on the windows; there were
brief days of flying clouds and and drifting
sunshine, ana intervals of dull gray
shadow, when the heaving white breakers
beyond the gate slowly lifted themselves
and sank before her like wraiths of warn
ing. AT such times, in her accepted Soli-
tude, Mrs. Bunker gave herself up to
strange moods and singular visions; the |
more audacious and more striking it seemed
to her from their very remoteness, and the
difficulty she was beginning to have in ma |
terializing them. The actual personality of
Wynyard Marion, as she knew il in her
one interview, had become very shadcwy |
and faint in the months that passed, |
yet when the days were heavy she some
times saw herself standing by his side in
some vague tropical surroundings, and
hailed by the multitude as the faithful wife
and consort of the great leader. President
she knew not what Exactly |
how this was to be managed, and the man
ner of Zephas's effacement from the scene,
never troubled her childish fancy, and it is
but lair to say, her womau's conscience
In the logic before alluded to, it seemed TO
her that all ethical responsibility for her
actions rested with the husband who had
unduly married her. Nor were those
visions always rose2te. In the wild dec-f
lamation of that exciting epoch which
filed the newspapers, there was talk of
short shrift with traitors. So there were
days when the sudden onset of a squat of
hail against her window caused her to start