Odnośniki
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- Anne Hampson Not Far from Heaven [MB 915] (pdf)
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
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- effulla.pev.pl
something dragged at me. I slowed down to a walk. Never in my life had I
been victim of such sensation. I must flee from something that was
drawing me back. Apparently one side of my mind was unalterably fixed,
while the other was a hurrying conglomeration of flashes of thought,
reception of sensations. I could not get calm.
By and by, almost involuntarily, with a fleeting look backward as if in
expectation of pursuit, I hurried faster on. Action seemed to make my
state less oppressive; it eased the weight upon me. But the farther I
went on, the harder it was to continue. I was turning my back upon love,
happiness, success in life, perhaps on life itself. I was doing that,
but my decision had not been absolute. There seemed no use to go on
farther until I was absolutely sure of myself. I received a clear
warning thought that such work as seemed haunting and driving me could
never be carried out in the mood under which I labored. I hung on to
that thought. Several times I slowed up, then stopped, only to tramp on
again.
At length, as I mounted a low ridge, Linrock lay bright and green before
me, not faraway, and the sight was a conclusive check. There were
mesquites on the ridge, and I sought the shade beneath them. It was the
noon hour, with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here I had to have out my
fight. If ever in my varied life of exciting adventure I strove to
think, to understand myself, to see through difficulties, I assuredly
strove then. I was utterly unlike myself; I could not bring the old self
back; I was not the same man I once had been. But I could understand
why. It was because of Sally Langdon, the gay and roguish girl who had
bewitched me, the girl whom love had made a woman--the kind of woman
meant to make life beautiful for me.
I saw her changing through all those weeks, holding many of the old
traits and graces, acquiring new character of mind and body, to become
what I had just fled from--a woman sweet, fair, loyal, loving,
passionate.
Temptation assailed me. To have her to-morrow--my wife! She had said it.
Just twenty-four little hours, and she would be mine--the only woman I
had ever really coveted, the only one who had ever found the good in me.
The thought was alluring. I followed it out, a long, happy stage-ride
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back to Austin, and then by train to her home where, as she had said,
the oranges grew and the trees waved with streamers of gray moss and the
mocking-birds made melody. I pictured that home. I wondered that long
before I had not associated wealth and luxury with her family. Always I
had owned a weakness for plantations, for the agricultural life with its
open air and freedom from towns.
I saw myself riding through the cotton and rice and cane, home to the
stately old mansion, where long-eared hounds bayed me welcome and a
woman looked for me and met me with happy and beautiful smiles. There
might--there _would_ be children. And something new, strange,
confounding with its emotion, came to life deep in my heart. There would
be children! Sally their mother; I their father! The kind of life a
lonely Ranger always yearned for and never had! I saw it all, felt it
keenly, lived its sweetness in an hour of temptation that made me weak
physically and my spirit faint and low.
For what had I turned my back on this beautiful, all-satisfying
prospect? Was it to arrest and jail a few rustlers? Was it to meet that
mocking Sampson face to face and show him my shield and reach for my
gun? Was it to kill that hated Wright? Was it to save the people of
Linrock from further greed, raids, murder? Was it to please and aid my
old captain, Neal of the Rangers? Was it to save the Service to the
State?
No--a thousand times no. It was for the sake of Steele. Because he was a
wonderful man! Because I had been his undoing! Because I had thrown
Diane Sampson into his arms! That had been my great error. This Ranger
had always been the wonder and despair of his fellow officers, so
magnificent a machine, so sober, temperate, chaste, so unremittingly
loyal to the Service, so strangely stern and faithful to his conception
of the law, so perfect in his fidelity to duty. He was the model, the
inspiration, the pride of all of us. To me, indeed, he represented the
Ranger Service. He was the incarnation of that spirit which fighting
Texas had developed to oppose wildness and disorder and crime. He would
carry through this Linrock case; but even so, if he were not killed, his
career would be ruined. He might save the Service, yet at the cost of
his happiness. He was not a machine; he was a man. He might be a perfect
Ranger; still he was a human being.
The loveliness, the passion, the tragedy of a woman, great as they were,
had not power to shake him from his duty. Futile, hopeless, vain her
love had been to influence him. But there had flashed over me with
subtle, overwhelming suggestion that not futile, not vain was _my_ love
to save him! Therefore, beyond and above all other claims, and by reason
of my wrong to him, his claim came first.
It was then there was something cold and deathlike in my soul; it was
then I bade farewell to Sally Langdon. For I knew, whatever happened, of
one thing I was sure--I would have to kill either Sampson or Wright.
Snecker could be managed; Sampson might be trapped into arrest; but
Wright had no sense, no control, no fear. He would snarl like a panther
and go for his gun, and he would have to be killed. This, of all
consummations, was the one to be calculated upon. And, of course, by
Sally's own words, that contingency would put me forever outside the
pale for her.
I did not deceive myself; I did not accept the slightest intimation of
hope; I gave her up. And then for a time regret, remorse, pain, darkness
worked their will with me.
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I came out of it all bitter and callous and sore, in the most fitting of
moods to undertake a difficult and deadly enterprise. Miss Sampson
completely slipped my mind; Sally became a wraith as of some one dead;
Steele began to fade. In their places came the bushy-bearded Snecker,
the olive-skinned Sampson with his sharp eyes, and dark, evil faced
Wright. Their possibilities began to loom up, and with my speculation
returned tenfold more thrilling and sinister the old strange zest of the
man-hunt.
It was about one o'clock when I strode into Linrock. The streets for the
most part were deserted. I went directly to the hall where Morton and
Zimmer, with their men, had been left by Steele to guard the prisoners.
I found them camping out in the place, restless, somber, anxious. The [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]