Harboro

“ That had happened a good many months ago; and Sylvia remembered now, with a feeling as of an icy hand on her heart, that if her relationships with many of the others in those old days were innocent enough—or at best marred only by a kindly folly—there had been that in her encounters with Fectnor which would forever damn her in Harboro’s eyes, if the truth ever reached him. He would have the right to call her a bad woman; and if the word seemed fantastic and unreal to her, she knew that it would not seem so to Harboro. ”

“ She closed her eyes and pondered. In Sylvia’s world men did not calmly ignore injury. They became violent, even when violence could not possibly mend matters. Had Harboro 154 decided to accept the inevitable, the irremediable, without a word? Her first thought, last night, had been that she would probably lose Harboro, too, together with her peace of mind. He would rush madly at Fectnor, and he would be killed. Was he the sort of man who would place discretion first and pocket an insult?
Oddly, the fear that he would attack Fectnor changed to a fear that he did not intend to do so. ”

“ The road was perfect. It stretched, smooth and white, away into the dusk. The air was clear as on a mountain top, with just enough crispness to create energy. Of wind there was scarcely a breath.
She was not pleased at all with Harboro’s friend. He had assumed the attitude of a deferential guide, and his remarks were almost entirely addressed to Harboro. But she was not to be put out by so small a part of the night’s programme. After all, Valdez was not planning to return with them, and they were likely to have the ride back by themselves. ”

“ That group of houses might have been likened to some kind of larger birds, hugging the earth in trepidation, ready to take flight at any moment.
Yet Harboro had been mistaken in supposing that no one was as yet astir. Two men stood out in the street, at the entrance to the Maverick bar, near a hitching-post to which a small horse carrying a big saddle was tethered. One of the men was about to mount. As Harboro approached he untied his horse and lifted one foot to its stirrup, and stood an instant longer to finish what he was saying, or perhaps to hear the other out. ”

“ But Sylvia scarcely saw the picture now. She was recalling the words she had written in that message to her father. If only she had not defied Fectnor; if only she had made a plea for pity, or suggested a fear of her husband—or if she hadn’t sent any answer at all!
It occurred to her that the exposure which menaced her was as nothing to the perils to which she had subjected Harboro. She knew instinctively that Harboro was not a man to submit to deliberate injury from any source. He would defend himself in the face of any danger; he would defend that which belonged to him. ”

“ Harboro took in the insinuated insult. He remained unmoved. He could see that Fectnor was not a coward, no matter what else he was; and he realized that this man would seek to enrage him further, so that his eyes would be blinded, so that his hands would tremble.
“I’m going to kill you, Fectnor,” Harboro continued. “But I’m going to give you a chance for your life. I want you to turn and walk down the street twelve paces. Then turn and draw. I’ll not draw until you turn 162 unless you try to play a trick on me. Your best chance lies in your doing just as I tell you to.” ”

“ The ranchman’s remark was entirely innocent, but rather unfortunate. “A very excellent horsewoman, Mrs. Harboro,” he remarked, among other things.
Harboro did not understand.
“I met her riding out the road this forenoon,” explained the ranchman.
“Oh, yes!” said Harboro. “Yes, she enjoys riding. I’m sorry, on her account, that I haven’t more liking for it myself.”
He went on up the hill, pondering. It was strange that Sylvia had not told him that she meant to go for a ride. She usually went into minute details touching her outings. ”

“ She did not linger in the room, and Harboro got the idea that she did not like to think of their sharing their home with outsiders. He understood that, too. “Of course we’re going to be by ourselves for a long time to come. There shall not be any guests until you feel you’d like to have them.” Then, as her eyes still harbored a shadow, he exclaimed gaily: “We’ll pretend that we haven’t any guest-chamber at all!” And taking a bunch of keys from his pocket he locked the door with a decisive movement. ”

“ And then she realized that Harboro and Valdez had returned. There was a stranger with them.
Harboro regarded her with unmistakable disapproval; but only for an instant. When something of the childlike glory of her face departed under the severe expression of his eyes, he relented immediately. “Are you enjoying yourself, Sylvia?” he inquired gently, and then: “I want you to meet our host.”
Wayne shook hands with her heartily. “You’re a very kind lady to get right into our merrymaking,” he said, “though I hope you’ll save a dance for me a little later.” ”

“ They were rather thrilled at the prospect of a dénouement to the story of Harboro’s eccentricity. They used no harsher word than that. They liked him and they would have deplored anything in the nature of a misfortune overtaking him. But human beings are all very much alike in one respect—they find life a tedious thing as a rule and they derive a stimulus from the tale of downfall, even of their friends. ”

“ Never was there a man to whom nature had been kinder—nor any man who was more graciously proud of what nature had done for him. For the occasion he was dressed in a suit of fawn-colored corduroy which fitted him as the rind fits the apple.
“Just a little too much so,” Harboro was thinking, ambiguously enough, certainly, as Runyon was brought before him and Sylvia. Runyon acknowledged the introduction with a cheerful urbanity which was quite without discrimination as between Harboro and Sylvia. Quite impartially he bestowed a flashing smile upon both the man and the 207 woman. ”

“ Harboro held his head high, as if his problem had been solved. He held himself erect, as if a burden had been removed. He had been almost at the point of making a fool of himself, he reflected. Reason asserted itself victoriously. But something which speaks in a softer, more insistent voice than reason kept whispering to him: “Runyon and Sylvia! Runyon and Sylvia!”
He faced her almost gayly at supper. He had resolved to play the rôle of a happy man with whom all is well. But old Antonia looked at him darkly. ”

“ Sylvia became more interested in the man than in the horse. It would be a pity to have as companion on a long ride a man without merits. She was not very favorably impressed by Valdez. The man 191 acknowledged his introduction to her too casually. There were no swift, confidential messages in his eyes. He seemed to be there for the purpose of devoting himself to Harboro, not to her.
Antonia came out to be sure that the cherished rebozo was tied to the pommel of Sylvia’s saddle, and then Harboro and Sylvia went back into the house to get into their riding things. ”

“ All that was substantial in the man’s nature was educed by men, not by women; and he was fond of Harboro. To him Sylvia was an incident, while Harboro was an episode. Harboro typified work and planning and the rebuffs of the day. Sylvia meant to him only a passing pleasure and the relaxation of the night or of a holiday.
As he went away he seemed eager to get around a corner somewhere. He seemed to be swelling up again. You might have supposed he was about to explode. 78
CHAPTER VIII
Sylvia’s dress made its appearance in due course in the house on the Quemado Road. ”

“ But Sylvia’s tears were only incidental to some lesser fear or grief. They did not spring from the wrong she had suffered, or from the depths of her nature, which had been dwarfed and darkened. She listlessly pulled a chair 147 into a better position and sat down where she need not look at Harboro. “Give me a little time,” she said. “You know women have moods, don’t you?” ”

“ And Harboro began vaguely to understand. Runyon was popular, not because he was a particularly good fellow, but because he was so supremely cheerful. And he seemed entirely harmless, despite the glamour of him. After all, he was not a mere male coquette. He was in love with the world, with life.
Wayne was reproaching him for not having come sooner. He should have been there for the beginning, he said.
And Runyon’s response was characteristic enough, perhaps: “Everything is always beginning.”
There was gay laughter at this, though the meaning of it must have been obscure to all save Sylvia. ”

“ Something that was not a part of herself argued with her that Harboro would come back, though all that she was by training and experiences warned her that she must not look for him.
At nightfall she turned wearily when Antonia tapped at her door.
“Niña!” The troubled old woman held out a beseeching hand. “You must have food. I have prepared it for you, again. There are very good eggs, and a glass of milk, and coffee—coffee with a flavor! Come, there will be another day, and another. Sorrows pass in the good God’s time; and even a blind sheep will find its blade of grass.” ”

“ That night of their wedding he had lifted her in his powerful arms and had given her a man’s assurance: “I mean that you’re to have all the help you want—that you’re to look to me for your strength.”
She reasoned shrewdly: Harboro wasn’t the sort of man people would tell things to—about her. They would know what to expect: intense passion, swift punishment.
And yet as she watched Antonia go away down the road, suggesting supine submission rather than a friend in need, her heart failed her. Had she done wisely? Fectnor had never stepped aside for any man. ”

“ They are not pleased that such things happen; they are merely interested, and they welcome the break in the monotony of events.
As for Harboro, he was a far more deeply changed man than they suspected. He was making a heroic effort in those days to maintain a normal bearing. It was only the little interstices of forgetfulness which enabled any one to read even a part of what was taking place in his thoughts.
He seemed unchanged to Sylvia, save that he admitted being tired or having a headache, when she sought to enliven him, to 247 draw him up to her own plane of merriment. ”

“ You might think little creatures—ants, or the silly locusts that sing in the heat—might have need of such a word. You wouldn’t blame an apple for being deformed, would you?—or the hawk for killing the dove? We are what we are—that’s all. I don’t blame any one.”
The bewildered Harboro leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “We are what we make ourselves, Sylvia. We do what we permit ourselves to do. Don’t lose sight of that fact. Don’t lose sight of the fact, either, that we are here, man and wife, to help each other. I’m waiting, Sylvia, for you to tell me what has gone wrong.” ”

“ Flags fluttered from the ramparts at intervals, but they seemed oddly lacking in gallantry or vitality.
“It’s a barbarous custom,” said Harboro shortly. He was still thinking of that incident on the bridge.
“And yet ... you might think of them as happy, living that way.”
“Good gracious! Happy?”
“They needn’t care about how they are to be provided for—and they have their duties.” 51
“But they’re prisoners, Sylvia!”
“Yes, prisoners.... Aren’t we all prisoners, somehow? I’ve sometimes thought that none of us can do just what we’d like to do, or come or go freely. ”

“ But Sylvia refused to respond to this. 217 The pagan in her nature reasserted itself, and she felt resentful of Runyon’s affable attitude toward Harboro. The attraction which she and Runyon exerted toward each other was not a thing to be brought within the scope of a conventionally friendly relationship. Its essence was of the things furtive and forbidden. It should be fought savagely and kept within bounds, even if it could never be conquered, or it should be acknowledged and given way to in secret. ”

“ And Harboro 72 wondered what was the matter with a man who saw the whole world, always, solely in relation to women. He sensed the fact that Peterson was not entirely comfortable. “He’s probably never grown accustomed to being in the company of a decent woman,” he concluded. He tried to launch the subject of old associates. It seemed that Peterson had been out in Durango for some time, but he had kept in touch with most of the fellows on the line to the City. He began to talk easily, and Harboro was enjoying the meeting even before the waiter came back with their food.
Sylvia was ill at ease. ”

“ Sylvia sat in her boudoir by an open window and watched him approach. She immediately guessed 182 that it was Runyon. The remarkable manner in which he had conquered the town had made him an occasional subject for comment between Sylvia and Harboro, and he had described the man to her.
Sylvia thought that the rider and his horse, with the sun on the man’s flashing blue eyes and the horse’s golden dapples, constituted the prettiest picture she had ever seen. Never before had she observed a man who sat his horse with such an air of gallantry. ”

“ Harboro would begin to ask why? And he was a man. He would guess the reason. He would begin to realize that mere obscurity on the part of his wife was not enough to explain the fact that the town refused to recognize her existence. And then...?
Antonia spoke to her once and again without being heard. Would the señora have the roast put on the table now, or would she wait until the señor came down-stairs? She decided for herself, bringing in the roast with an entirely erroneous belief that she was moving briskly. An ancient Mexican woman 81 knows very well what the early months of marriage are. ”