The Convalescence of Jack Hamlin Page #4

"The Convalescence of Jack Hamlin" by Bret Harte is a short story that explores themes of healing, redemption, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in the American West, it follows the character of Jack Hamlin, a former gambler recovering from illness. During his convalescence, he encounters various individuals who challenge his worldview and inspire him to confront his past. Harte's vivid storytelling combines humor and realism, showcasing his signature style while delving into the transformative power of friendship and self-reflection.

• Short story

								

appearance of his host himself bearing a tray, possibly in deference to
Miss Bird's sense of propriety. It appeared also that Dr. Duchesne had
previously given suitable directions for his diet, and Mr. Hamlin found
his repast simple but enjoyable. Always playfully or ironically polite
to strangers, he thanked his host and said he had slept splendidly.

"It's this yer 'ozone' in the air that Dr. Duchesne talks about," said
Seth complacently.

"I am inclined to think it is also those texts," said Mr. Hamlin
gravely, as he indicated them on the wall. "You see they reminded me of
church and my boyhood's slumbers there. I have never slept so peacefully
since." Seth's face brightened so interestedly at what he believed to
be a suggestion of his guest's conversion that Mr. Hamlin was fain to
change the subject. When his host had withdrawn he proceeded to dress
himself, but here became conscious of his weakness and was obliged
to sit down. In one of those enforced rests he chanced to be near the
window, and for the first time looked on the environs of his place
of exile. For a moment he was staggered. Everything seemed to pitch
downward from the rocky outcrop on which the rambling house and farm
sheds stood. Even the great pines around it swept downward like a green
wave, to rise again in enormous billows as far as the eye could reach.
He could count a dozen of their tumbled crests following each other on
their way to the distant plain. In some vague point of that shimmering
horizon of heat and dust was the spot he came from the preceding night.
Yet the recollection of it and his feverish past seemed to confuse him,
and he turned his eyes gladly away.

Pale, a little tremulous, but immaculate and jaunty in his white
flannels and straw hat, he at last made his way downstairs. To his
great relief he found the sitting room empty, as he would have willingly
deferred his formal acknowledgments to his hostess later. A single
glance at the interior determined him not to linger, and he slipped
quietly into the open air and sunshine. The day was warm and still, as
the wind only came up with the going down of the sun, and the atmosphere
was still redolent with the morning spicing of pine and hay and a
stronger balm that seemed to fill his breast with sunshine. He walked
toward the nearest shade--a cluster of young buckeyes--and having with
a certain civic fastidiousness flicked the dust from a stump with his
handkerchief he sat down. It was very quiet and calm. The life and
animation of early morning had already vanished from the hill, or seemed
to be suspended with the sun in the sky. He could see the ranchmen and
oxen toiling on the green terraced slopes below, but no sound reached
his ears. Even the house he had just quitted seemed empty of life
throughout its rambling length. His seclusion was complete. Could he
stand it for three weeks? Perhaps it need not be for so long; he
was already stronger! He foresaw that the ascetic Seth might become
wearisome. He had an intuition that Mrs. Rivers would be equally so; he
should certainly quarrel with Melinda, and this would probably debar him
from the company of the children--his only hope.

But his seclusion was by no means so complete as he expected.
He presently was aware of a camp-meeting hymn hummed somewhat
ostentatiously by a deep contralto voice, which he at once recognized as
Melinda's, and saw that severe virgin proceeding from the kitchen along
the ridge until within a few paces of the buckeyes, when she stopped
and, with her hand shading her eyes, apparently began to examine the
distant fields. She was a tall, robust girl, not without certain rustic
attractions, of which she seemed fully conscious. This latter weakness
gave Mr. Hamlin a new idea. He put up the penknife with which he had
been paring his nails while wondering why his hands had become so thin,
and awaited events. She presently turned, approached the buckeyes,
plucked a spike of the blossoms with great girlish lightness, and then
apparently discovering Mr. Hamlin, started in deep concern and said with
somewhat stentorian politeness: "I BEG your pardon--didn't know I was
intruding!"

"Don't mention it," returned Jack promptly, but without moving. "I saw
you coming and was prepared; but generally--as I have something the
matter with my heart--a sudden joy like this is dangerous."

Somewhat mystified, but struggling between an expression of rigorous
decorum and gratified vanity, Miss Melinda stammered, "I was only"--

"I knew it--I saw what you were doing," interrupted Jack gravely, "only
I wouldn't do it if I were you. You were looking at one of those young
men down the hill. You forgot that if you could see him he could see
you looking too, and that would only make him conceited. And a girl with
YOUR attractions don't require that."

"Ez if," said Melinda, with lofty but somewhat reddening scorn, "there
was a man on this hull rancho that I'd take a second look at."

"It's the first look that does the business," returned Jack simply. "But
maybe I was wrong. Would you mind--as you're going straight back to
the house" (Miss Melinda had certainly expressed no such
intention)--"turning those two little kids loose out here? I've a sort
of engagement with them."

"I will speak to their mar," said Melinda primly, yet with a certain
sign of relenting, as she turned away.

"You can say to her that I regretted not finding her in the sitting room
when I came down," continued Jack tactfully.

Apparently the tact was successful, for he was delighted a few moments
later by the joyous onset of John Wesley and Mary Emmeline upon the
buckeyes, which he at once converted into a game of hide and seek,
permitting himself at last to be shamelessly caught in the open.
But here he wisely resolved upon guarding against further grown-up
interruption, and consulting with his companions found that on one
of the lower terraces there was a large reservoir fed by a mountain
rivulet, but they were not allowed to play there. Thither, however, the
reckless Jack hied with his playmates and was presently ensconced under
a willow tree, where he dexterously fashioned tiny willow canoes with
his penknife and sent them sailing over a submerged expanse of nearly
an acre. But half an hour of this ingenious amusement was brought to an
abrupt termination. While cutting bark, with his back momentarily turned
on his companions, he heard a scream, and turned quickly to see
John Wesley struggling in the water, grasping a tree root, and Mary
Emmeline--nowhere! In another minute he saw the strings of her pinafore
appear on the surface a few yards beyond, and in yet another minute,
with a swift rueful glance at his white flannels, he had plunged after
her. A disagreeable shock of finding himself out of his depths was,
however, followed by contact with the child's clothing, and clutching

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