PAGE 14
The Conspiracy Of Mrs. Bunker
by
And so the days and nights slowly passed. The solitude which her previous empty deceit had enabled her to fill with such charming visions now in her awakened remorse seemed only to protract her misery. Had she been a more experienced, though even a more guilty, woman she would have suffered less. Without sympathy or counsel, without even the faintest knowledge of the world or its standards of morality to guide her, she accepted her isolation and friendlessness as a necessary part of her wrongdoing. Her only criterion was her enemy–Mrs. Fairfax–and SHE could seek her relief by joining her lover; but Mrs. Bunker knew now that she herself had never had one–and was alone! Mrs. Fairfax had broken openly with her husband; but SHE had DECEIVED hers, and the experience and reckoning were still to come. In her miserable confession it was not strange that this half child, half woman, sometimes looked towards that gray sea, eternally waiting for her,–that sea which had taken everything from her and given her nothing in return,–for an obliterating and perhaps exonerating death!
The third day of her waiting isolation was broken upon by another intrusion. The morning had been threatening, with an opaque, motionless, livid arch above, which had taken the place of the usual flying scud and shaded cloud masses of the rainy season. The whole outlying ocean, too, beyond the bar, appeared nearer, and even seemed to be lifted higher than the Bay itself, and was lit every now and then with wonderful clearness by long flashes of breaking foam like summer lightning. She knew that this meant a southwester, and began, with a certain mechanical deliberation, to set her little domain in order against the coming gale. She drove the cows to the rude shed among the scrub oaks, she collected the goats and young kids in the corral, and replenished the stock of fuel from the woodpile. She was quite hidden in the shrubbery when she saw a boat making slow headway against the wind towards the little cove where but a moment before she had drawn up the dingey beyond the reach of breaking seas. It was a whaleboat from Saucelito containing a few men. As they neared the landing she recognized in the man who seemed to be directing the boat the second friend of Colonel Marion–the man who had come with the Secretary to take him off, but whom she had never seen again. In her present horror of that memory she remained hidden, determined at all hazards to avoid a meeting. When they had landed, one of the men halted accidentally before the shrubbery where she was concealed as he caught his first view of the cottage, which had been invisible from the point they had rounded.
“Look here, Bragg,” he said, turning to Marion’s friend, in a voice which was distinctly audible to Mrs. Bunker. “What are we to say to these people?”
“There’s only one,” returned the other. “The man’s at sea. His wife’s here. She’s all right.”
“You said she was one of us?”
“After a fashion. She’s the woman who helped Marion when he was here. I reckon he made it square with her from the beginning, for she forwarded letters from him since. But you can tell her as much or as little as you find necessary when you see her.”
“Yes, but we must settle that NOW,” said Bragg sharply, “and I propose to tell her NOTHING. I’m against having any more petticoats mixed up with our affairs. I propose to make an examination of the place without bothering our heads about her.”
“But we must give some reason for coming here, and we must ask her to keep dark, or we’ll have her blabbing to the first person she meets,” urged the other.
“She’s not likely to see anybody before night, when the brig will be in and the men and guns landed. Move on, and let Jim take soundings off the cove, while I look along the shore. It’s just as well that there’s a house here, and a little cover like this”–pointing to the shrubbery–“to keep the men from making too much of a show until after the earthworks are up. There are sharp eyes over at the Fort.”