And Mrs.Bunker perhaps was not pained to learn that her husband's family was of a lower degree than her own.But the stranger's knowledge did not end there.He talked of her husband's business--he explained the vast fishing resources of the bay and coast.He showed her how the large colony of Italian fishermen were inimical to the interests of California and to her husband--particularly as a native American trader.He told her of the volcanic changes of the bay and coast line, of the formation of the rocky ledge on which she lived.He pointed out to her its value to the Government for defensive purposes, and how it naturally commanded the entrance of the Golden Gate far better than Fort Point, and that it ought to be in its hands.If the Federal Government did not buy it of her husband, certainly the State of California should.And here he fell into an abstraction as deep and as gloomy as before.He walked to the window, paced the floor with his hand in his breast, went to the door, and finally stepped out of the cabin, moving along the ledge of rocks to the shore, where he stood motionless.
Mrs.Bunker had listened to him with parted lips and eyes of eloquent admiration.She had never before heard anyone talk like THAT--she had not believed it possible that any one could have such knowledge.Perhaps she could not understand all he said, but she would try to remember it after he had gone.She could only think now how kind it was of him that in all this mystery of his coming, and in the singular sadness that was oppressing him, he should try to interest her.And thus looking at him, and wondering, an idea came to her.
She went into her bedroom and took down her husband's heavy pilot overcoat and sou'wester, and handed them to her guest.
"You'd better put them on if you're going to stand there," she said.
"But I am not cold," he said wonderingly.
"But you might be SEEN," she said simply.It was the first suggestion that had passed between them that his presence there was a secret.He looked at her intently, then he smiled and said, "Ithink you're right, for many reasons," put the pilot coat over his frock coat, removed his hat with the gesture of a bow, handed it to her, and placed the sou'wester in its stead.Then for an instant he hesitated as if about to speak, but Mrs.Bunker, with a delicacy that she could not herself comprehend at the moment, hurried back to the cabin without giving him an opportunity.
Nor did she again intrude upon his meditations.Hidden in his disguise, which to her eyes did not, however, seem to conceal his characteristic figure, he wandered for nearly an hour under the bluff and along the shore, returning at last almost mechanically to the cabin, where, oblivious of his surroundings, he reseated himself in silence by the table with his cheek resting on his hand.
Presently, her quick, experienced ear detected the sound of oars in their row-locks; she could plainly see from her kitchen window a small boat with two strangers seated at the stern being pulled to the shore.With the same strange instinct of delicacy, she determined not to go out lest her presence might embarrass her guest's reception of his friends.But as she turned towards the living room she found he had already risen and was removing his hat and pilot coat.She was struck, however, by the circumstance that not only did he exhibit no feeling of relief at his deliverance, but that a half-cynical, half-savage expression had taken the place of his former melancholy.As he went to the door, the two gentlemen hastily clambered up the rocks to greet him.
