Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-09-22
CLARENCE
BY BRET .HARTE.

Still with the pink glowing In her
rounding cheek, and eyes swapping
like splintered sapphires, she rose to
her feet, with her pretty shoulders
lifted, her small hands and white
teeth both tightly clenched, and took
a step towards him.
Even in her attitude there wa d
reminiscence of her willful childhood,
although still blended with the pro-
yincial actress whom he had seen on
the stage only an hour ago.
Thoroughly alarmed at her threats,
in his efforts to conceal his feelings
he was not above a weak retaliation.
Stepping back he affected to regard
her with a critical admiration that
was only half simulated, and said,
with a smile: "Very well done-but
you have forgotten the flag" She did
not finch. Rather accepting the sar-
casm rs a tribute to her art she went
on with increasing cx~aggeration,
mo, IL is you who have forgotten
the lag-forgotten your country,
your people, your manhood-every.
thing for that heightened, double
dyed old spy and traitress! For while
NOu olO oldllNliDS hCIC NouA nv -
gathering under her roof at Robes n
secession leaders and their bloated,
drunken '~chivalry.'
Yes! You may smile your superior
smile, but tell you, Clarence Brant,
that with all your smnrtness and
book learning you know no more Of
what goes OIL around you than q child.
Dat <tLA., 1af Tiki s-nA a ID
known to the government, the fed
eral officers have been warned: Gem
eral Sumner has been sent out here
and his first act was TO change the
command at Fort Alcatrez and send
your wife's southern friend-Captain
Pinkney-to the right about. Yes
everything is known but one thing
and that is where and how this pre-
cious crew meet! That i alone know,
and that l have told YOU"
"And / suppose" said Clarence,
with an unchanged smile, that this
valuable information came from your
husband-my old friend, Jim Hook
err"
NO." she answered, sharply. ut
m from Cencho-one of your own
poems, who is more true TO you and
the old Rancho than you have ever
been. lie saw what vas going on and
came to me to warn you."
but why not to me directly" said
Clarence, with affected incredibly.
Ask him." she said, ~viciously.
perhaps he didn't want to warn the
master against the mistress. Perhaps
he thought we are still friends, Per-
haps-" she hesitated. with n lower
voice and a forced smile, perhaps he
used to see us together in the old
times"
"Very likely" said Clarence, quiet
ly, "and for the sake Of these old
times, Susy," he went on with d sin.
gular gentleness that was quite dis
tinct from his paling face and set
eyes, II am going to forget all that
you have said of me and mine, in. all
the old willfulness and impatience
that l see you still keep with all your
old prettiness." He took his hat from
the table and gravely held out his
hand.
She was frightened for a moment
with his impassive abstraction. In
the old days she had known it-had
believed 1t was his logged "obstinacy"
but she knew the hopelessness Of
opposing it. Yet, with feminine per-
sistency, she again threw herself
against it, as a wall.
"You don't believe me-! Well, go
and see for yourself. They are at
Robes now! If you catch the early
morning stage at Santa Clare, you
will come upon them before they dis
perse. Dare you try it?"
whatever / do" he returned, smil-
ingly, II shall always be grateful to
you for giving me this opportunity
of seeing you again-as you were!
Make my excuses to your husband.
Good night"
Clarence"
But he had already closed the door
behind him. His face did not relax
it's expression or change as he
looked again at the tray with its brok-
en- viands before the door, the worn,
stained hall carpet, or the waiter who
shufled past him.
He was apparently as critically con-
scious of them and of the close doors
of the hall and the atmosphere of list
less decay and faded extravaganza
around him as before the interview.
Had the woman he had Just parted
lIOIh Ndltlltu III SIiC "oUlu IdNc
supposed he still utterly disbelieved
her story. But he was conscious that
all that he-saw was a part of his deg
radiation, for he had believed every
word she had uttered.
Through all her extravaganza, envy
and revengefulness, he saw the CEN
trail truth-that he had been deceived,
not by his wife, but by himself. He
had suspected all this before-this
was what had been really troubling
him, this was what he had put aside,
rather than his faith, not in her, but
in his ideal.
He remembered letters that had
passed between her and Captain Pink
ney-letters that she had openely sent
to notorious southern leaders, her
nervous anxiety to remain at the
rancho, the innuendoes and signif-
can't glances of friends which he put
aside-as he had this woman's mes
sage!
Susy had told him nothing new of
his wife, but the truth of himself.
And the revelation came from people
whom he was conscious were the in
feriors of himself and his wife. To
an independent, proud and self-made
man it was the eliminating stroke.
In the same abstracted voice he told
the coachman to drive home.
The return seemed interminable
though he never shifted his position.
Yet when he drew up at his door
and looked at his watch he found he
had been absent only half an hour.
Only half an hour! AS he entered the
house he turned with the same alb
straction toward a mirror in the hall
as if he had expected to sc some out
ward and visible change in himself
at hat time.
Diminishing his servants to bed, he
went into his dressing room, com
nletely chanred his attire. nut ON q