ns had departed. During
this period, Hawkins was civilly but grotesquely attentive. When, after
a reasonable time had elapsed, there still appeared to be no immediate
prospect of the occupancy of the new house, public opinion experienced a
singular change in regard to its theories of Mr. Hawkins's conduct. The
"Hag" was looked upon as a saint-like and long-suffering martyr to the
weaknesses and inconsistency of the "Fool." That, after erecting this
new house at her request, he had suddenly "gone back" on her; that his
celibacy was the result of a long habit of weak proposal and subsequent
shameless rejection; and that he was now trying his hand on the helpless
schoolmarm, was perfectly plain to Five Forks. That he should be
frustrated in his attempts at any cost was equally plain. Miss Milly
suddenly found herself invested with a rude chivalry that would have
been amusing, had it not been at times embarrassing; that would have
been impertinent, but for the almost superstitious respect with which
it was proffered. Every day somebody from Five Forks rode out to inquire
the health of the fair patient. "Hez Hawkins bin over yer to-day?"
queried Tom Flynn, with artful ease and indifference, as he leaned over
Miss Milly's easy-chair on the veranda. Miss Milly, with a faint pink
flush on her cheek, was constrained to answer, "No." "Well, he sorter
sprained his foot agin a rock yesterday," continued Flynn with shameless
untruthfulness. "You mus'n't think any thing o' that, Miss Arnot. He'll
be over yer to-morrer; and meantime he told me to hand this yer bookay
with his re-gards, and this yer specimen." And Mr. Flynn laid down the
flowers he had picked en route against such an emergency, and presented
respectfully a piece of quartz and gold, which he had taken that morning
from his own sluice-box. "You mus'n't mind Hawkins's ways, Miss Milly,"
said another sympathizing miner. "There ain't a better man in camp than
that theer Cy Hawkins--but he don't understand the ways o' the world
with wimen. He hasn't mixed as much with society as the rest of us," he
added, with an elaborate Chesterfieldian ease of manner; "but he means
well." Meanwhile a few other sympathetic tunnelmen were impressing upon
Mr. Hawkins the necessity of the greatest attention to the invalid. "It
won't do, Hawkins," they explained, "to let that there gal go back to
San Francisco and say, that, when she was sick and alone, the only man
in Five Forks under whose roo