Tales of Trail and Town | Page 7

fortune. Yet she had suddenly declared her intention of returning to
Atherly, to consult him on affairs of importance. Peter was both
surprised and eager; there was but little affection between them, but,
preoccupied with his one idea, he was satisfied that she wanted to talk
about the family.
But he was amazed, disappointed, and disconcerted. For Jenny Atherly,
the sober recluse of Santa Clara, hidden in her sombre draperies at the
funeral, was no longer to be recognized in the fashionable, smartly but
somewhat over-dressed woman he saw before him. In spite of her large
features and the distinguishing Roman nose, like his own, she looked
even pretty in her excitement. She had left the convent, she was tired of
the life there, she was satisfied that a religious vocation would not suit
her. In brief, she intended to enjoy herself like other women. If he
really felt a pride in the family he ought to take her out, like other
brothers, and "give her a show." He could do it there if he liked, and
she would keep house for him. If he didn't want to, she must have
enough money to keep her fashionably in San Francisco. But she
wanted excitement, and that she WOULD HAVE! She wanted to go to
balls, theatres, and entertainments, and she intended to! Her voice grew
quite high, and her dark cheek glowed with some new- found emotion.

Astounded as he was, Peter succumbed. It was better that she should
indulge her astounding caprice under his roof than elsewhere. It would
not do for the sister of an Atherly to provoke scandal. He gave
entertainments, picnics, and parties, and "Jinny" Atherly plunged into
these mild festivities with the enthusiasm of a schoolgirl. She not only
could dance with feverish energy all night, but next day could mount a
horse--she was a fearless rider-- and lead the most accomplished
horsemen. She was a good shot, she walked with the untiring foot of a
coyote, she threaded the woods with the instinct of a pioneer. Peter
regarded her with a singular mingling of astonishment and fear. Surely
she had not learned this at school! These were not the teachings nor the
sports of the good sisters! He once dared to interrogate her regarding
this change in her habits. "I always FELT like it," she answered quickly,
"but I kept it down. I used sometimes to feel that I couldn't stand it any
longer, but must rush out and do something," she said passionately;
"but," she went on with furtive eyes, and a sudden wild timidity like
that of a fawn, "I was afraid! I was afraid IT WAS LIKE MOTHER! It
seemed to me to be HER blood that was rising in me, and I kept it
down,--I didn't want to be like her,--and I prayed and struggled against
it. Did you," she said, suddenly grasping his hand, "ever feel like that?"
But Peter never had. His melancholy faith in his father's race had left
no thought of his mother's blood mingling with it. "But," he said
gravely, "believing this, why did you change?"
"Because I could hold out no longer. I should have gone crazy. Times I
wanted to take some of those meek nuns, some of those white-faced
pupils with their blue eyes and wavy flaxen hair, and strangle them. I
couldn't strive and pray and struggle any longer THERE, and so I came
here to let myself out! I suppose when I get married--and I ought to,
with my money--it may change me! You don't suppose," she said, with
a return of her wild-animal-like timidity, "it is anything that was in
FATHER, in those ATHERLYS,-- do you?"
But Peter had no idea of anything but virtue in the Atherly blood; he
had heard that the upper class of Europeans were fond of field sports
and of hunting; it was odd that his sister should inherit this propensity

and not he. He regarded her more kindly for this evidence of race. "You
think of getting married?" he said more gently, yet with a certain
brotherly doubt that any man could like her enough, even with her
money. "Is there any one here would-- suit you?" he added
diplomatically.
"No--I hate them all!" she burst out. "There isn't one I don't despise for
his sickening, foppish, womanish airs."
Nevertheless, it was quite evident that some of the men were attracted
by her singular originality and a certain good comradeship in her ways.
And it was on one of their riding excursions that Peter noticed that she
was singled out by a good- looking, blond-haired young lawyer of the
town for his especial attentions. As the cavalcade straggled in climbing
the mountain, the young fellow rode close to her saddle-bow, and as the
distance lengthened