Still
nothing had been said about Nick; and Carmen dared not ask. She feared
some disappointment, and shrank from the blow.
Mariette had brought coffee to her mistress's stateroom very early, but
Carmen was not averse to the suggestion of breakfast at the hotel before
motoring over the mountains. As they ate, they talked of impersonal
things: the colony under the trees; the making of the mountain road; and
Falconer told how Mount Shasta--long ago named by Indians "Iska, the
White"--was the abode of the Great Spirit; and how, in old, old times,
before the Indians, the sole inhabitants of the country were grizzly
bears. Carmen listened to the unfolding of the tale into a fantastic
love-story, saying, "Oh!" or "How interesting!" at polite intervals.
Always she asked herself, "Where's Nick? Hasn't he come yet? Is it
possible he's been prevented from coming at all?" She tried to brace
herself against disappointment and not show that she cared, but she turned
red and white when Mrs. Harland said at last, "We're so sorry Mr. Hilliard
couldn't be with us. We both like him so much, and it would have been very
nice to have him too, while you are at Rushing River Camp."
"Oh, he couldn't come!" Carmen echoed dully.
"No.
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