he reason. It
is no guilt that keeps his name hidden,--at least, not his. (Seating
herself, and arranging flowers in her lap.) Poor Sandy! he must have
climbed the eastern summit to get this. See, the rosy sunrise still
lingers in its very petals; the dew is fresh upon it. Dear little
mountain baby! I really believe that fellow got up before daylight, to
climb that giddy height and secure its virgin freshness. And to think,
in a moment of spite, I'd have given it to that bombastic warrior!
(Pause.) That was a fine offer you refused just now, Miss Mary. Think of
it: a home of luxury, a position of assured respect and homage; the life
I once led, with all its difficulties smoothed away, its uncertainty
dispelled,--think of it! My poor mother's dream fulfilled,--I, her
daughter, the mistress of affluence, the queen of social power! What
a temptation! Ah, Miss Mary, WAS it a temptation? Was there nothing
in your free life here that stiffened your courage, that steeled the
adamant of your refusal? or was it only the memory of your mother's
wrongs? Luxury and wealth! Could you command a dwelling more charming
than this? Position and respect! Is not the awful admiration of these
lawless men more fascinating than the perilous flattery of gentlemen
like Col. Starbottle? is not the devotion of these outcasts more
complimentary than the lip-service of perfumed gallantry? (Pause.)
It's very odd he doesn't come. I wonder if that conceited old fool said
anything to him. (Rises, and then seats herself, smiling.) He HAS COME.
He is dodging in and out of the manganita bushes below the spring. I
suppose he imagines my visitor still here. The bashful fool! If anybody
should see him, it would be enough to make a petty scandal! I'll give
him a talking-to. (Pause.) I wonder if the ridiculous fool has gone
to sleep in those bushes. (Rises.) Well, let him: it will help him to
recover his senses from last night's dissipation; and you, Miss Mary,
it is high time you were preparing the lessons for to-morrow. (Goes
to schoolhouse, enters door, and slams it behind her; after a moment
reappears with empty bucket.) Of course there's no water, and I am dying
of thirst. (Goes slowly to left, and pauses embarrassedly and bashfully,
presently laughs,--then suddenly frowns, and assumes an appearance of
indignation.) Miss Mary Morris, have you become such an egregious fool
that you dare not satisfy the ordinary cravings of human nature,
just because an idle