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coolly。
He turned and began to retrace his steps。 On his way thither he
had been fighting the elements step by step； now they seemed to him
to have taken possession of him and were hurrying him quickly away。
But where？ and to what？ He was always thinking of the past。 He
had wandered he knew not how long； always thinking of that。 It was
the future he had to consider。 What was to be done？
He had heard of such cases before； he had read of them in
newspapers and talked of them with cold curiosity。 But they were
of worldly； sinful people； of dissolute men whose characters he
could not conceiveof silly； vain； frivolous； and abandoned women
whom he had never even met。 But JoanO God！ It was the first
time since his mute prayer on the staircase that the Divine name
had been wrested from his lips。 It came with his wife'sand his
first tears！ But the wind swept the one away and dried the others
upon his hot cheeks。
It had ceased to rain； and the wind； which was still high； had
shifted more to the north and was bitterly cold。 He could feel the
roadway stiffening under his feet。 When he reached the pavement of
the outskirts once more he was obliged to take the middle of the
street； to avoid the treacherous films of ice that were beginning
to glaze the sidewalks。 Yet this very inclemency； added to the
usual Sabbath seclusion； had left the streets deserted。 He was
obliged to proceed more slowly； but he met no one and could pursue
his bewildering thoughts unchecked。 As he passed between the lines
of cold； colorless houses； from which all light and life had
vanished； it seemed to him that their occupants were dead as his
love； or had fled their ruined houses as he had。 Why should he
remain？ Yet what was his duty now as a manas a Christian？ His
eye fell on the hideous facade of the church he was passingher
church！ He gave a bitter laugh and stumbled on again。
With one of the gusts he fancied he heard a familiar soundthe
rattling of buggy wheels over the stiffening road。 Or was it
merely the fanciful echo of an idea that only at that moment sprung
up in his mind？ If it was real it came from the street parallel
with the one he was in。 Who could be driving out at this time？
What other buggy than his own could be found to desecrate this
Christian Sabbath？ An irresistible thought impelled him at the
risk of recognition to quicken his pace and turn the corner as
Richard Demorest drove up to the Independence Hotel； sprang from
his buggy； throwing the reins over the dashboard； and disappeared
into the hotel！
Blandford stood still； but for an instant only。 He had been
wandering for an hour aimlessly； hopelessly； without consecutive
idea； coherent thought or plan of action； without the faintest
inspiration or suggestion of escape from his bewildering torment；
withouthe had begun to feareven the power to conceive or the
will to execute； when a wild idea flashed upon him with the rattle
of his buggy wheels。 And even as Demorest disappeared into the
hotel； he had conceived his plan and executed it。 He crossed the
street swiftly； leaped into his buggy； lifted the reins and brought
down the whip simultaneously； and the next instant was dashing down
the street in the direction of the Warensboro turnpike。 So sudden
was the action that by the time the astonished hall porter had
rushed into the street； horse and buggy had already vanished in the
darkness。
Presently it began to snow。 So lightly at first that it seemed a
mere passing whisper to the ear； the brush of some viewless insect
upon the cheek； or the soft tap of unseen fingers on the shoulders。
But by the time the porter returned from his hopeless and invisible
chase of the 〃runaway；〃 he came in out of a swarming cloud of
whirling flakes； blinded and whitened。 There was a hurried
consultation with the landlord； the exhibition of much imperious
energy and some bank…notes from Demorest； and with a glance at the
clock that marked the expiring limit of the Puritan Sabbath； the
landlord at last consented。 By the time the falling snow had
muffled the street from the indiscreet clamor of Sabbath…breaking
hoofs； the landlord's noiseless sledge was at the door and Demorest
had departed。
The snow fell all that night； with fierce gusts of wind that moaned
in the chimneys of North Liberty and sorely troubled the Sabbath
sleep of its decorous citizens； with deep； passionless silences；
none the less fateful； that softly precipitated a spotless mantle
of merciful obliteration equally over their precise or their
straying footprints； that would have done them good to heed and to
remember； and when morning broke upon a world of week…day labor； it
was covered as far as their eyes could reach as with a clear and
unwritten tablet； on which they might record their lives anew。
Near the wreck of the broken bridge on the Warensboro turnpike an
overturned buggy lay imbedded in the drift and debris of the river
hurrying silently towards the sea； and a horse with fragments of
broken and icy harness still clinging to him was found standing
before the stable…door of Edward Blandford。 But to any further
knowledge of the fate of its owner； North Liberty awoke never
again。
PART II
CHAPTER I
The last note of the Angelus had just rung out of the crumbling
fissures in the tower of the mission chapel of San Buena…ventura。
The sun which had beamed that day and indeed every day for the
whole dry season over the red…tiled roofs of that old and happily
ventured pueblo seemed to broaden to a smile as it dipped below the
horizon； as if in undiminished enjoyment of its old practical joke
of suddenly plunging the Southern California coast in darkness
without any preliminary twilight。 The olive and fig trees at once
lost their characteristic outlines in formless masses of shadow；
only the twisted trunks of the old pear trees in the mission garden
retained their grotesque shapes and became gruesome in the
gathering gloom。 The encircling pines beyond closed up their
serried files； a cool breeze swept down from the coast range and；
passing through them； sent their day…long heated spices through the
town。
If there was any truth in the local belief that the pious
incantation of the Angelus bell had the power of excluding all evil
influence abroad at that perilous hour within its audible radius；
and comfortably keeping all unbelieving wickedness at a distance；
it was presumably ineffective as regarded the innovating stage…
coach from Monterey that twice a week at that hour brought its
question…asking； revolver…persuading and fortune…seeking load of
passengers through the sleepy Spanish town。 On the night of the 3d
of August； 1856； it had not only brought but set down at the Posada
one of those passengers。 It was a Mr。 Ezekiel Corwin； formerly
known to these pages as 〃hired man〃 to the late Squire Blandford；
of North Liberty； Connecticut； but now a shrewd； practical； self…
sufficient； and self…asserting unit of the more cautious later
Californian immigration。 As the stage rattled away again with more
or less humorous and open disparagement of the town and the Posada
from its 〃outsiders；〃 he lounged with lazy but systematic
deliberation towards Mateo Morez； the proprietor。
〃I guess that some of your folks here couldn't direct me to Dick
Demorest's house； could ye？〃
The Senor Mateo Morez was at once perplexed and pained。 Pained at
the ignorance thus forced upon him by a caballero； perplexed as to
its intention。 Between the two he smiled apologetically but
gravely； and said： 〃No sabe； Senor。 I 'ave not understood。〃
〃No more hev I；〃 returned Ezekiel； with patronizing recognition of
his obtuseness。 〃I guess ez heow you ain't much on American。 You
folks orter learn the language if you kalkilate to keep a hotel。〃
But the momentary vision of a waistless woman with a shawl gathered
over her head and shoulders at the back door attracted his
attention。 She said something to Mateo in Spanish； and the
yellowish…white of Mateo's eyes glistened with intelligent
comprehension。
〃Ah； posiblemente； it is Don Ricardo Demorest you wish？〃
Mr。 Ezekiel's face and manner expressed