CHAPTER XIX.
Houston had been called away to the office at Silver City, a telegram coming one afternoon for him to come down by the next train. Rutherford was at that time expecting to leave in a few days, to continue his pleasure trip to the coast, having already prolonged his stay among the mountains far beyond his first intentions; but at Houston’s request, he agreed to remain over until the latter’s return, which he expected would be in about ten days.
A few days after Houston’s departure, Lyle started out one afternoon for the little cabin, at an hour a little later than she went to pursue her studies, or for reading. She knew that at this time, Jack usually came off his shift, as he and Mike were expert miners, and always completed their task some time in advance of the others.
She had not seen Jack since the visit of the party from the east, although she was at the cabin but a few evenings preceding that event, and had explained her long absence. Now she had special reasons for wishing to meet him, and she hastened on, hoping to find him alone. When she reached the cabin, Jack had just come from the mine, and Mike, fortunately, had gone down to the Y for needed supplies, and would not return for some hours.
After talking a little while, Lyle skillfully brought the conversation around to Mr. Houston, and stated that he was in Silver City.
“What is he doing there?” asked Jack, in a tone of surprise, “Is he going to remain there?”
“No, he has gone over temporarily to assist the company in that office, as he said they needed extra help; he thought he would be back in about ten days.”
“He seems to make a very efficient clerk for the mining company,” said Jack, with a peculiar emphasis which Lyle did not understand, but in which she detected a flavor of sarcasm.
“He seems efficient in whatever he undertakes,” she replied with a light laugh, “clerking, fighting or love-making, he is successful in all.”
“How has he succeeded in love-making?” asked Jack quickly.
“Ask Miss Gladden,” was Lyle’s smiling rejoinder.
“Is he really in love with her, do you think?”
“Judging by indications, it is a case of genuine love on both sides, which, contrary to the old proverb, does run smoothly so far. I think they are engaged.”
“And you are left out in the cold?” asked Jack kindly, but watching her keenly.
“You would not think so, if you could know how kind they are to me,” Lyle answered, “you and they are the only friends I have ever known.”
“How about Mr. Rutherford? Isn’t he a friend of yours, too?”
“Mr. Rutherford is a gentleman,” she replied slowly, “he always treats me with respect, and we have very pleasant times together, but he never forgets that I belong to one station in life, and he to another. He is altogether unlike Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden; I wish you could know them, Jack, and that they could know you.”
“They probably have no desire to form my acquaintance, and I have no need to form theirs. It is rather late in the day for me to make friends now.”
“But Jack,” said Lyle, in almost a pleading tone, “Miss Gladden wishes to meet you, and has repeatedly asked me to inquire if she might come and see you.”
“What is her motive for wishing to see me?”
“I think because I have often spoken of you as my friend; then she said recently, that she would like, if possible, to take me east with her, and give me a musical education, and she would like to talk with you about it.”
“Has she or Mr. Houston heard you sing?”
“Yes.”
“What did they say of your voice?”
“Miss Gladden seems to think I have a wonderful voice, and Mr. Houston said he had heard but one like it in all his life.”
Jack had risen, and was looking out of the window, his back toward Lyle; after a few moments he spoke, in an unusually gentle tone.
“You can say to Miss Gladden, that if she wishes to see me regarding you, she is welcome to come. Though I seldom receive callers, and have no wish to meet strangers, I am willing to meet a true friend of yours.”
“Then, under those conditions,” said Lyle, with almost a tone of triumph in her voice, “you would meet Mr. Houston.”
“Why?” asked Jack, quickly, turning toward her.
“Because he is my friend.”
Jack shook his head, and began pacing the room. “No,” he said, as gently as ever, but very firmly, “I would rather not meet him.”
Lyle looked troubled. “Jack,” she said earnestly, “you have always appeared rather peculiar regarding Mr. Houston; tell me candidly, are you his friend, or his enemy?”
“Why!” he exclaimed in surprise, stopping before her, and looking into her earnest face, with a smile, “How should I be either? Am I not perfectly neutral? Are we not strangers?”
Lyle shook her head decidedly. “I cannot say whether or not you are strangers, but you are not neutral toward him; I have seen all along that you have some strong feeling toward him, but whether of kindness or enmity, I cannot tell, but I must know.”
“Why must you know?” he asked, resuming his walk.
“Perhaps I can tell you later,” she replied, “but, as you are my friend, I must know whether you are, or will be, his friend, or his enemy.”
For some moments Jack was silent, and when he spoke his voice was full of some strong emotion:
“My dear child, I have no reason for any enmity toward him, and if he is the true, honorable man that you think he is, God knows I would stand by him, even to death itself.”
“Then, if he was in difficulty or danger, and needed help, you would help him, would you not?” asked Lyle eagerly.
“My child,” he answered gravely, “you must explain yourself; you certainly can trust me. I promise you this, I will not harm him or betray him, whatever may be the difficulty.”
“You are sure there is no one to hear us?”
“I will make sure,” he answered briefly, and bidding the collie guard the outside door, he then closed the door between the two rooms, and sat down near Lyle.
“You remember,” she began, “the evening you passed our house?” He nodded. “Well, among the strangers there that night, were an English expert, Mr. Lindlay, and a Mr. Van Dorn, who, they said, was an inventor of some mining machinery. A little while after you passed, I took a book and went out by the lake to read, sitting down behind a thick group of small evergreens. I read as long as I could see, and then sat for some time, thinking, and watching the reflection of the moon in the lake. Then the moon went behind that tall peak, you know, across the lake, and it was quite dark; but I remained there thinking so deeply that, although for a few minutes I heard low voices talking, I paid no attention to it, supposing it was simply some people going up the mountain, till suddenly I was aroused by Mr. Houston’s voice, only a few feet from me, saying in a low tone, ‘There may be considerable danger ahead of us, but you are just the one I need, and you will be well compensated,’ and Mr. Van Dorn answered, ‘Hang compensation! if I can help you get the best of these rascals, I’m going to do it, just for the gratification of the thing,’ and then I heard the Englishman, with his peculiar accent, saying something I couldn’t quite catch, but it seemed to be to the effect that he would help Mr. Houston against what he called the ‘domned scoundrels.’
“At first, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t without their seeing me, and having to make explanations, and making it embarrassing all round; and then the thought flashed through my mind that Mr. Houston was a good friend of mine, and perhaps if I stayed, I might be able to help him if he should be in any danger later, as he spoke of, so I remained there.
“I haven’t time to tell you all I heard, but this is what I learned: He is not a clerk at all, but is out here in the interest of some rich company in the east, with which an uncle of his is connected. This eastern company have for some time suspected crooked work on the part of the company here, and he has come out in the capacity of bookkeeper and clerk to get all the information he can against them. He has obtained all the proofs he can get in this office, and said he was going over in a few days to the main office at Silver City,––and that is where he is now,––to see what he can find against them there. When he returns he is going to examine the mines that this eastern company own, as fast as he can get opportunities, and it seems this Mr. Van Dorn is a mining expert himself, though no one out here knows it, and when Mr. Houston is ready, he is to come out here with some of his mining machinery that he is going to set up in the mills, to show the company his new method of reducing ores, but his real object in coming will be to help Mr. Houston carry on his investigations against the company. Then, when they have obtained all the information and proof they need, they will telegraph Mr. Houston’s uncle,––Mr. Cameron, I think was his name,––and he and the English expert will come out together, unexpectedly to the company, and I think they said they would prosecute the officers of the company for fraud.”
Jack’s face was concealed with one hand, but Lyle could see that he had grown very pale, and beneath the heavy, black beard, his lips were moving under the influence of some deep emotion. She continued:
“My reason for wishing to confide this to you was, that I heard Mr. Van Dorn ask Mr. Houston if there was any one among the miners whom he could trust to help them, as he said without the assistance of some one, familiar with the mines and their different workings, the undertaking would be much more difficult and dangerous; and I thought at once of you, Jack. You have often told me of the dishonesty and fraud practiced by the company, and said that you would like to see some of their schemes exposed, and I thought you would be just the one to help Mr. Houston, and no one would be likely to suspect you either.”
She paused a moment, then added, “He has enemies working against him, and he ought to have some one to help him.”
“Who are his enemies?” asked Jack.
“Haight, for one, and my father and all the men that he can influence; and you know, that if they once suspected what he is doing, they would not hesitate, for one moment, to kill him.”
“They would not,” said Jack, quietly but decidedly, “and among the mines it is a very easy thing to put a man out of the way.”
“Then you will look out for him, and help him, will you not?” said Lyle, rising to go.
“Yes, child,” he answered with unusual tenderness, “you do not know what you are asking, but since hearing what you have told me, no harm shall come to your friend that I can prevent, no matter what it costs me.”
“But Jack,” said Lyle anxiously, going to him and laying her hands in his, “this will not put you in danger, will it? My idea was that you could give him information, and no one would ever suspect you; but you have been too true a friend to me, for me to put you in any danger.”
“You need have no fear,” he answered, “I did not refer to any particular danger of that kind. I am only glad you have told me what you have. Had I learned it in any other way, I would have wished to help your friend. When he returns, say nothing to him of having asked me to help him; I will find him in my own way.” Lyle thanked Jack heartily, and as she looked up into his face, her beautiful eyes unusually bright, and her cheeks flushed with emotion, he seemed strangely touched, and bending over her, kissed her reverently on her forehead, for the first time in their acquaintance.
CHAPTER XX.
Nearly a week after the departure of Houston for Silver City, as Morgan was passing the sorting rooms one morning, on his way from the mines to the mills, he heard Haight calling him.
“Hello, there, Morgan, the Sunrise deal is off.”
“Off? who says so? Got a wire from the boss?”
“Yes, she just came, about fifteen minutes ago.”
“What’s the matter? did the old man say?”
“Nothing very definite; ‘party writes property not satisfactory,’ that’s all he says.”
“Hang it! I should think it looked good enough for ’em. Well,” he growled, “there’s so much hard work gone for nothing,” and thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets in his disgust, Morgan started on his way, but Haight detained him.
“Hold on a minute; say, Morgan, you don’t suppose that they caught on to our deal, do you? or that anybody put ’em onto it?”
“Who was there to put ’em onto anything?” asked Morgan.
“Oh, the confidential clerk, may be; he was on such good terms with Johnny Bull and the dude.”
Morgan shook his head. “He’s too much of a sucker for the company, and knows too well which side his bread is buttered, for business of that kind.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Haight, “he’s a dude and a tenderfoot himself, and likes to toady around with those eastern snobs; what else were they hob-nobbing with him for, if they didn’t think they could get some information out of him? I’ve got my own ideas on that subject and I’m going to make some investigations, and if I find I’m correct, he’ll find pretty quick where he will be; I’ve no use for him any way.” “I haven’t any more use for him than you have,” answered Morgan, “but he ain’t a very safe fellow to fool with now, I can tell you, and I don’t think you want to run up against him yourself.”
“I don’t know as I’ve said anything about running up against anybody,” said Haight, “that isn’t my style, but I’ll run him out of this country in one way or another, see if I don’t.”
“You think you’re pretty smooth,” Morgan called over his shoulder, as he started for the mills, “and if you want to undertake the job, all right; for my part, I don’t care to have much to do with him.”
Two or three evenings later, as Lyle sat in her favorite nook beside the lake, book in hand, watching for the return of Miss Gladden who had gone with Rutherford for a short row, she was much surprised to see Haight approaching, wearing his most ingratiating smile. For a day or two, he had, on several occasions, when unobserved by the others, treated her with a marked politeness intended to be very flattering, for the thought had occurred to him that possibly through her he might get some information regarding Houston.
“Ah,” he said now, seating himself at a little distance from her, and with a glance at the book which she had closed and laid aside, “I fear I have interrupted your reading.”
“I was not reading,” she replied, “I was merely glancing over a book of Miss Gladden’s while awaiting her return.”
For a few moments he talked in a light, frivolous manner, but Lyle, suspicious of some ulterior motive in his coming, did not respond very favorably to his efforts at conversation. At last he said, very pleasantly:
“This is a favorite resort of yours, is it not, Miss Maverick?”
“Yes, I come here frequently,” she replied.
“I judged so,” he continued carelessly, “I saw you out here the evening the eastern party was at the house, and I remember the English expert and his friend took a walk in this direction, with Mr. Houston. I suppose they were talking over the mine they had looked at, and took Mr. Houston along thinking he might be able to give them any additional information they needed. I wonder what they thought about that mine,” he added, watching Lyle, “I suppose you must have overheard some of their conversation.”
Lyle was not taken off guard, however, and answered indifferently, “I heard voices, but I was so absorbed in thought I paid little attention to them; it was some time before I even recognized them.”
“But you certainly must have overheard some of their conversation,” said Haight, in his smoothest tones, “can you not recall anything said about the mine?”
“There was nothing whatever said about the mine,” she replied, “and if there had been, I am not in the habit of listening to conversations and repeating them.”
“Of course not, under ordinary circumstances,” Haight rejoined, smiling, “but you know ‘all is fair in love and war’ and in mining deals, and as I am interested in behalf of the company, and we have, as yet, heard nothing from the party, you see I naturally had a little curiosity regarding their conversation that evening. You are sure they said nothing of the mine, or that Mr. Houston gave them no information?”
Lyle rose, her eyes flashing with scorn and indignation, as she replied, “Why should Mr. Houston give them any information? As I have told you, there was nothing said about the mine; so far as I could judge, the gentlemen were talking of their own personal affairs; and it is false that you have received no word from the eastern party, for I heard you and Morgan talking at the table yesterday of the deal having fallen through, and you suspect Mr. Houston of dishonorable conduct only because you judge every one to be like yourself,” and without giving him opportunity to reply, she turned and walked in the opposite direction toward the boat which she saw approaching in the distance.
Haight walked away toward the house, conscious that his interview had been a failure, but more than ever determined to work his revenge upon Houston, and upon Lyle also, when the right time came.
Lyle determined, for the present, to say nothing regarding the interview, and met her friends without any allusion to what had just occurred.
After assisting Miss Gladden ashore, Rutherford returned to the boat, while Miss Gladden and Lyle started homeward. The former could detect in Lyle’s manner signs of unusual excitement, but asked no questions, as she did not think it best to force her confidence.
“Lyle, when are you going to take me to call on your friend, Jack?” she inquired.
“Any time you wish,” Lyle answered, “I spoke to him the other day about your coming, and he said you would be most welcome.”
“Then he graciously consented to receive me! Very well, suppose we go now, it is not late.”
Arriving at the cabin, they found Jack and Mike sitting outside the door, watching the last fleeting colors of the gorgeous sunset. Miss Gladden was duly introduced, and invited within, and since the bashful Irishman could not be prevailed upon to enter the cabin, Jack entertained his guests alone.
Miss Gladden, from Lyle’s description of her friend, had expected to find in Jack a gentleman, but she was totally unprepared for the polished courtesy, the courtly ease and grace without a trace of self-consciousness or restraint, with which, though clad in rough, miner’s clothes, he received her in the little cabin, and as she conversed with him, she found her respect for him increasing every moment.
To Jack, isolated as he had been for years from refined, intellectual associations, it seemed like a glimpse into another, and not unfamiliar world, and the deference and respect expressed in Miss Gladden’s manner were especially gratifying.
Very easily Miss Gladden led the conversation, avoiding, with intuitive delicacy, all allusions to himself or his surroundings, till at last she said:
“I have taken such an interest in my friend, Lyle, and she has so often spoken of your kindness to her, that I have wished to meet you, for I feel that in her welfare, we have a mutual interest.”
Jack smiled gravely, as he replied, “I have endeavored to help her as best I could under existing conditions, and notwithstanding the fact that the ways and means have been exceedingly restricted, she has proven herself an apt pupil, and has made good progress.”
“Indeed she has,” said Miss Gladden, “and with her ability, it seems a pity that she should not have every possible advantage.”
“To me,” he replied, “it seems a great pity that so much of her life has already been spent among such disadvantages, the greater part of the most valuable portion of her life wasted.”
“Not entirely wasted,” said Miss Gladden, “for what you have taught her will be of inestimable value to her always.”
“Yes, indeed!” exclaimed Lyle, “what would my life have been without you?”
“I have laid the foundation so far as I was able,” said Jack, smiling, “but it was time, long ago, for the superstructure to be builded.”
“One reason why I wish to see you,” continued Miss Gladden, “was to ask you what you would think of the feasibility of my taking Lyle east with me, when I return.”
“If you are willing to do that, Miss Gladden,” said Jack, slowly, “I can see nothing in the way of its practicability except to gain the consent of Mr. and Mrs. Maverick, and that might prove a formidable obstacle.”
“He does not call them her parents,” thought Miss Gladden, “does he know she is not their child?”
Jack continued. “If it had not been for that difficulty, I would gladly myself have furnished the means for a moderate education for Lyle, but I knew Maverick’s decided objection to her possessing even the most rudimentary knowledge. I am of the opinion also, though I may be in error, that he would not allow her to leave home.”
“You are right, Jack,” said Lyle, “if I were to wait for his consent, I would never leave here, or have any advantages.”
“May I inquire,” said Jack, addressing Miss Gladden, “at what time you expect to return east?” A faint color tinged Miss Gladden’s cheek, as she replied:
“I have not yet decided just when I will go east, but probably the latter part of the summer.”
“Ah, well,” he answered, with a slight smile, “I hope that between now and that time, some arrangement can be made to Lyle’s advantage; but if I may make any suggestion, it would be this; that nothing be said at present regarding this subject to either Mr. or Mrs. Maverick, as it would only arouse their opposition, and perhaps lead to some unpleasant results.”
After a few moments’ further conversation, Miss Gladden thanked Jack for his kindness, and rose to go. At the door they found Mike, and while Lyle chatted merrily with the witty Irishman for a moment, Miss Gladden turned toward Jack, saying in a low tone:
“I would like to have a talk with you regarding Lyle, some time when she is not present; may I come and see you by myself some day?”
“Certainly,” he responded, “I would be pleased to see you.”
For a moment, Miss Gladden stood in silent admiration, watching this man whose life seemed wrapped in so much mystery, while he replied to some laughing questions of Lyle’s.
He was, even now, a splendid specimen of manhood, although his shoulders were slightly stooped, and silver threads gleamed here and there in the black hair and beard, making him look older than his years. He had a face of remarkable beauty also,––with fine, clear-cut features,––though browned with exposure, and bearing the lines that only the fingers of sorrow can trace. His face did not resemble Houston’s in the least, but something in his manner reminded Miss Gladden of her lover, and she watched him with a sort of fascination.
As she and Lyle walked homeward together, the latter asked:
“What do you think now of my friend, Miss Gladden?”
And Miss Gladden replied thoughtfully, “I think, my dear, that he is one of earth’s heroes.”
CHAPTER XXI.
The ten days which Houston was to spend at Silver City had expired, and his work there was completed. He had followed much the same plan as in the office at the camp, doing the work of the company by day, and pursuing his own investigations at night.
Mr. Blaisdell had at first objected to his working evenings, telling him the company had no wish to make a slave of him, but upon Houston’s representing that it was an absolute necessity in order to accomplish the needed work within a given time, he allowed him to have his own way. He had been able to get together much additional proof regarding the fraudulent transactions of the company, even ascertaining in what direction much of the revenue due the New York company had gone.
He was present when the company received the brief but pointed letter from Mr. Winters, in which he stated that the property shown them had not been what they were looking for, and that they had found something more satisfactory in another direction.
“Well, Blaisdell,” said Mr. Rivers, in his quick, incisive way, “I’m not in the least surprised.”
“Not surprised!” echoed Mr. Blaisdell, “Why not? I confess I’m surprised and disappointed.”
“It’s just what I expected,” again chirped Mr. Rivers, “just what I told you all along.”
“I knew you said you were rather suspicious just in the direction where I felt the surest of them.”
“Just so,” said Mr. Rivers, “I said all along, ‘those fish won’t bite worth a nickel.’”
“Well,” said Mr. Blaisdell, with a heavy sigh, “all we can do is to try again.”
“And next time, I’d advise you to have a little more bait, or else don’t tackle so big a fish.”
It was Houston’s last evening in Silver City, and he sat in the hotel lobby reading letters which had just come from his uncle and Van Dorn, under cover from the Chicago firm, as usual.
Mr. Cameron was delighted to have met Van Dorn and the Englishman, and had engaged both men to remain in New York, awaiting word from Houston, when he should be ready.
The closing paragraph in Van Dorn’s letter he read and re-read with a smile, it was so characteristic of his friend:
“I have had one of my machines carefully packed, and it now stands addressed, ready to accompany me to your mining camp on short notice, where I will show your people the latest method for the reduction of ores; and if the mining company itself is not pretty well reduced’ before we get through, my name is not that ofYour friend,ARTHUR VAN DORN.P. S. ‘The mills of the gods grind slowly,But they grind exceeding small.’”
“I have had one of my machines carefully packed, and it now stands addressed, ready to accompany me to your mining camp on short notice, where I will show your people the latest method for the reduction of ores; and if the mining company itself is not pretty well reduced’ before we get through, my name is not that of
Your friend,ARTHUR VAN DORN.
P. S. ‘The mills of the gods grind slowly,But they grind exceeding small.’”
As Houston folded his letters, his attention was attracted by loud talk among a group of men in another part of the lobby. Sauntering in that direction, he heard an excited voice exclaim:
“I tell you, they’re the biggest frauds on the face of the earth. If there’s a dishonest scheme, or a sharp, underhanded little game that they’re not onto, I’d like to know what it is.”
“Which company do you mean?” inquired another speaker.
“I mean the mining company represented by Rivers and Blaisdell, with old Wilson as a figure-head. I can’t remember all their long-winded names, but the whole combination is rotten, from beginning to end, nothing but a set of lying, scheming, thieving rascals.”
“That’s right,” said an old gentleman who had not spoken before, “they’re a tough lot.”
“Tough!” echoed the first speaker, “I should say so! One of their little games is to take charge of mining claims for eastern parties. The parties send on money for development work, but do you suppose it is used in developing the mines? Not much! By and by, the first these parties know, they have forfeited their claims through lack of representation, but don’t you think the company are not watching out, ready to jump the claim the very day the time expires. Sometimes they’ll hire some poor Swede to locate the claim for them, and then assign it to them for a trifle. In that way, I’ve heard of their getting possession of the same claim over and over again.”
“I’ve heard pretty hard stories about Blaisdell,” said another, “but I guess he don’t make much for himself, for as fast as he fleeces other people, Rivers fleeces him.”
There was considerable more talk in the same strain, but after the group had separated, Houston, who had learned the name of the principal speaker, approached him as he was standing alone, and said, in a low tone:
“This is Mr. Hartwell, I believe; my name is Houston. Mr. Hartwell, I heard your remarks a little while ago concerning the North Western Mining Company and its officers. I am one of the clerks of that company, and I wish to know if you are prepared to substantiate the statements you have made here to-night.”
“Yes,” the man exclaimed with an oath, “I’ll substantiate every word I’ve said here to-night, and I can get you a dozen more that will tell you more about that company than I can.”
“Never mind about the others, for the present,” replied Houston coolly, “what you have said to-night is likely to come to the ears of the company, and what I want to know is this; would you swear in court to what you have said here?”
“I tell you,” said Mr. Hartwell, with another oath, “I’ll swear to it ten times over, and if I ever have a chance, I’ll down you and your cursed company till you won’t know that you ever existed,” and then seeming to take Houston as the representative of the entire corporation, he poured upon him a torrent of vituperation and abuse which was very amusing to Houston, who was only thinking of securing a witness for the prosecution, by and by.
“Well, Mr. Hartwell,” he said at last, “you seem so anxious to express your feelings, we may give you an opportunity later. For the present, I wish you good evening,” and he walked smilingly away.
Mr. Hartwell looked after him in amazement; “By George!” he soliloquized, “but that fellow’s a cool duck, anyhow! I couldn’t faze him a particle.”
The next morning, Houston, in company with Mr. Blaisdell, took the early train for the mines. He could not help contrasting this with his first trip over the same road. Then, he was a stranger, with his entire work before him, uncertain of success in his undertaking; now, his preparatory work was nearly done, and though the most difficult part of his task yet remained, he felt that success was sure. But the contrast which to him seemed, most striking, was in his own feelings, for though conscious of enemies and having no knowledge of the friends ready to assist him, he yet felt a certain pleasure in returning to the mines, as though returning home; and he realized as never before, that hidden away in the heart of the mountains was the source from which henceforth must flow all his earthly happiness.
Arriving at the office, they found no one there, and Houston immediately began an attack upon the work accumulated during his absence, while Mr. Blaisdell proceeded to the mills and mines.
On his way he met Haight, and the subject of the unsuccessful mining deal was at once taken up.
“They simply wrote that the property was not what they wanted, and that they had found what they were looking for elsewhere,” said Mr. Blaisdell in explanation.
“They seemed well enough satisfied when they were here,” remarked Haight.
“That was my impression,” said Mr. Blaisdell, “but Rivers seems to think differently. He says he was suspicious of them all the time, because they said nothing one way or another, after seeing the property; but my impression was that they were very well pleased.”
“Certainly,” answered Haight, who always made it a practice to have his opinions coincide with those expressed by the person with whom he happened to be talking, especially if it were for his interest to do so; “everything seemed satisfactory as far as I could judge. It is my opinion, Mr. Blaisdell, and has been for some time, that something must have been said by some one to prejudice those people against the mine; that is the only way I could account for the deal falling through as it did.”
“But who was there to say anything prejudicial? We were all interested in selling the mine.”
“I don’t care to call any names, Mr. Blaisdell, but I don’t think it best to take people into our confidence till we are pretty sure of them.”
“Oh, you allude to Mr. Houston, but you are mistaken there; why, Haight, that fellow is working for our interests, and he has saved the company considerable money already in the way he has straightened the books and detected crooked work; he’s going to be invaluable.”
“He’ll work for our interests just as long as it is for his interest to do so, but I imagine anybody could buy him off pretty easy. He’s one of your swells; see how he dresses and what hightoned notions he has for a man in his position, and then tell me he wouldn’t take a little tip on the outside if he got a chance.”
“I think you are mistaken,” said Mr. Blaisdell slowly, “still, of course, there might be something in what you say; I’ll think it over,” and the subject was dropped for that day.
Houston was very busy until nearly noon, but left the office a little earlier than usual, as he was anxious to meet Miss Gladden a few moments in advance of the others, if possible.
She was outside the porch, training some vines which she and Lyle had transplanted from among the rocks by the lake. Her back was toward the road, but hearing Houston’s step, as he approached the house, she quickly turned, and in the depths of her luminous eyes he read a welcome that made his return seem more than ever like a home-coming. Clasping warmly the shapely little hand extended to him in greeting, he drew it within his arm, and having led her to a comfortable seat within the porch, he drew his own chair close beside her, where he could watch the lovely face, so classic and perfect in its beauty, and clothed, when animated, with a subtle, spirituelle radiance.
“You are very welcome,” said Miss Gladden, as he seated himself, “we will all have to celebrate your return, for we have missed you very much. Have you been well?”
“Very well,” replied Houston, smiling, “except for a touch of homesickness occasionally when I remembered our evenings among the mountains, or on the lake. It was fortunate that my evenings were so crowded with work, or the malady might have proved quite serious.”
“Our evenings have not been nearly so pleasant without you,” said Miss Gladden, “we were all becoming frightfully dull and vapid, but I think we will now recover our spirits.”
“I have learned one thing,” said Houston, “that it is not any particular place or surroundings that constitutes home for us, so much as the presence of those who are dear to us. Imagine how it would have seemed to me, three months ago, to have called this place ‘home,’ but it seems wonderfully home-like to me to-day.”
“As to what constitutes a home, I am scarcely qualified to judge,” said Miss Gladden, “for I hardly know what a home is; but my idea is, that any spot where my best loved ones were, would be home to me.”
“And with such sentiments as those,” Houston responded, “you would make any spot on earth home to those whom you loved.”
“I should hope to,” she replied, and added archly, “and if they loved me, I think I would succeed.”
“I fear,” said Houston, smiling, “that we are very old fashioned and far behind the spirit of modern times, which considers love of small account in the elements that constitute a home.”
“I consider it an indispensable element, nevertheless,” she replied, earnestly, “for I have seen too much of so-called homes where it did not exist, and they were not even successful imitations of the genuine article; their hollowness and wretchedness were only too apparent.” She paused a moment, then continued:
“To me, the home seems like one of the old-time temples; a place to be kept sacred to peace and purity and love; from which the sin and strife of the outside world should be faithfully excluded; whose inmates, on entering, should leave behind all traces of the evil and discord of the outer world, as the Oriental leaves his dust-laden sandals at the door of his sanctuary.”
“I have never known any other than such a home as that,” said Houston, slowly, “and it is the only true home.”
“Pardon me,” said Miss Gladden, “but are your parents living? I have often wondered.”
“No,” he replied, “my parents died when I was a mere child, but the faint recollection of my early home, and the memory of my uncle’s home, which has been mine also, correspond very closely with the picture you have just drawn.”
“Then with you it is a reality,” she answered, “but with me, only an ideal.”
“Miss Gladden,” said Houston very earnestly, but with great tenderness, “will you not let me help you to make a reality of your ideal?” Then, as she did not immediately reply, he continued, “The love that we believe in as the foundation of a true home, is not lacking on my part. I love you, Leslie, so much that life with you anywhere would seem perfect and complete, while life without you, even in a palace, would not seem worth the living. Can you love me enough to share my life and home, whatever it may be, as my wife?”
He had taken her hand, and she did not withdraw it, but looking in his face, she asked:
“Would you make me your wife, knowing so little of me as you do?”
“I think I know enough,” he replied, “I know that you are a pure, true-hearted woman; I know that whether you love me or not,” her eyes dropped, “there is no one you love better than me; and though I do not know it, I am almost sure that you do care for me in some degree, am I not right?”
She looked up into the face bending over her, and Houston read his answer in her eyes, and even had she tried to speak, he gave her no opportunity for doing so.
“To think of your conceit!” exclaimed Miss Gladden, a few moments later, “in having the assurance to say that I cared for no one more than you, whether I loved you or not; how did you ever come to make such an assertion?”
“Your eyes betrayed you,” he answered, while she blushed, “they often tell tales, but I have noticed they always tell the truth, and I knew they would never have told me some secrets that they have, if there was any one else you cared for.”
The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their conversation, and brought them back to the common, every-day affairs of life, and turning, they saw Rutherford coming up the path from the lake, where he had gone for a stroll.
“Hello, Houston!” exclaimed the latter, catching a glimpse of his friend, “when did you come? Well, I’m awfully glad you’ve got back, we’ve missed you, old fellow, I can tell you.”
“Welcome home!” said a sweet voice, and Houston saw the starry eyes and golden crowned head of Lyle framed in the door-way, and hastened to greet her. She met him with a woman’s grace, and with a child’s affection looking frankly out of her lovely eyes. After his brief absence, Houston was impressed by her beauty as never before. “I didn’t know the child was so beautiful,” he thought to himself, “I believe she grows lovelier every day, and she reminds me strangely of some one I have seen long ago.”
“Oh, by the way,” said Rutherford, as the friends seated themselves around the dinner table, “I’ve just received a letter from my brother, and he says he is coming out here.”
“Your brother!” exclaimed Miss Gladden and Houston, “What! coming here among the mountains?”
“Yes,” he replied, “he happened to be in New York when Van Dorn got back, and from his description of the place, and mine, he says he would like to see it. He is coming out to the coast by another route, and wants me to meet him in San Francisco, and then we will stop here on our return.”
“Then you are coming back again,” said Miss Gladden; “that will be lovely, and we will be delighted to meet your brother with you.”
“Indeed we will,” added Houston cordially, “what time do you expect to be here, Ned?”
“My brother wants to get here, he says, in about six or eight weeks, so it will probably be some time in August.”
Lyle had said nothing, but had listened to the conversation, a thoughtful, far-away look stealing into her eyes; and the rest of the boarders arriving just then, nothing more was said on the subject.
Haight greeted Houston with his usual smiling politeness, but Morgan looked sullen, and Mr. Blaisdell was gloomy and taciturn. Haight’s influence was working, and he could afford to smile. Lyle was quick to note the situation, and also to detect in Haight’s face an expression of ill-concealed triumph, and as their eyes met, he read that in her face that boded no good to himself.
CHAPTER XXII.
Mr. Blaisdell having returned to the city that same day, everything went forward in the same regular routine as prior to Houston’s absence, and evening found the four friends seated on the summit of an immense rocky pile, watching the grand and rugged scenery surrounding them illumined by the glowing colors of the sunset sky. They had been talking of Rutherford’s intended trip to the coast, when Miss Gladden said:
“Mr. Houston, how early can you join us to-morrow afternoon? We are going to have a little picnic party of four, in honor of your return, and also to give Mr. Rutherford pleasant memories of his last days among the mountains.”
“Oh,” said Rutherford, “now I understand; I’ve wondered what you ladies were so mysterious about all day; you’ve been holding secret sessions and making cabalistical signs to each other all the afternoon. Well, as this picnic is partly on my account, I’m sure I feel flattered and shall be delighted to attend. Houston, old boy, when can we look for you?”
“I think, considering the importance of the occasion, I can be ready to join you at three o’clock,” replied Houston, while the ladies expressed their approval.
“There seems to have been a great deal of mysterious consultation about this affair,” remarked Rutherford, “what is the program for to-morrow?”
“Well,” said Miss Gladden, “for one thing, we must have plenty of music; have neither of you gentlemen any musical instruments with you?”
“Not I,” replied Houston, while Rutherford answered, laughing, “I have a banjo that I brought along to amuse myself with in case I got lonesome, but I’ve had no use for it so far, I’ve had such good company here.”
“A very graceful compliment, thank you,” said Miss Gladden, smiling, “but bring the banjo by all means, we will have use for it to-morrow, and I have just thought of something else for the occasion,––but I’m not going to divulge all my plans, we must keep something for a surprise, mustn’t we, Lyle?”
Lyle laughed merrily; “I’m not going to tell a single plan of mine; you will all find when we reach the place, what a mountain picnic means.”
“But can we not even know where we are going?” asked Rutherford, with a tragic air.
“You would not know if I should tell you,” responded Lyle, “we are going to Sunset Park.”
“Sunset Park!” they exclaimed, “where is that?”
“Is it in any way connected with the Sunrise mine of recent fame?” inquired Houston.
“No,” replied Lyle, “it is across the lake; you remember the landing I showed you among the rocks? You follow the broad trail leading up the mountains, and you will come to a beautiful plateau on the west side, as level as a floor,––but I’m not going to tell you about it, you must first see it for yourselves.”
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, while Houston still stood talking with Miss Gladden and Rutherford, the graceful form of Lyle suddenly darted past them, her face nearly concealed by an enormous sunbonnet.
“Lyle, you gypsy, where are you going?” called Miss Gladden.
For answer, she turned and waved her hand with a merry laugh, then ran, fleet-footed as a deer, to the edge of the lake, and unfastening one of the little boats, was in it and rowing out upon the lake as dextrously as a professional oarsman, before those watching her could even guess her intentions.
“Great Cæsar! but that girl can row!” exclaimed Rutherford, with all the enthusiastic admiration of a newly graduated collegian.
“Where is the child going?” asked Houston.
“Probably to the picnic ground,” said Miss Gladden, “but what for, I cannot imagine.”
The sunbonnet was waved saucily in the air, and then instead of steering for the landing place as they expected, the boat suddenly disappeared around a corner of the rocks, in the opposite direction, while there came ringing out on the air, in mocking tones, the words of the old song:
“I saw the boat go ’round the bend.”
No one saw Lyle when she returned, a couple of hours later, and not even Miss Gladden knew that she was in the house until she made her appearance at the dinner table, with a very demure face, exceedingly pink fingers, and wearing an air of deep mystery that no amount of joking could diminish.
After dinner, Lyle made two or three trips across the lake, carrying mysterious baskets and dishes. In one of these journeys she was intercepted by Miss Gladden, who was lying in wait for her, and who, tempted by the delightful aroma, lifted the cover of one of her dishes.
“Strawberries!” she exclaimed, “and wild ones! Where did you get them, Lyle? They are the first I have seen out here.”
“They are the first that have ripened,” she replied, “I went over to the gulch for them this morning, but don’t say anything about them,” she added, as she stepped into the boat with her treasures, “I’m going to cache them until they are needed.”
“Going to do what?” said Miss Gladden.
“Going to ‘cache’ them, hide them away among the rocks,” she replied laughing, and, taking the oars, she was soon speeding across the lake.
It was a merry party that started out two or three hours later. Houston carried the banjo, as Rutherford had his precious camera and a lot of plates, having declared his intention of immortalizing the occasion by taking a number of views for the benefit of their posterity. Miss Gladden had her guitar, and to the great astonishment of the gentlemen, Lyle appeared, carrying a fine old violin. It was Mike’s, which she had borrowed for the occasion at the suggestion of Miss Gladden, and in reply to the expressions of wonder from the gentlemen, Miss Gladden said:
“This is the surprise I planned for you, but wait till you have heard her; I never heard her myself until a day or two ago.”
With song and laughter they crossed the lake, and having reached the landing place among the rocks and fastened their boats, proceeded up the mountain. Here they found a flight of natural stone steps, at the head of which a broad trail wound around the mountain, until, having passed a huge, shelving rock, they suddenly found themselves on a plateau, broad, grassy, and, as Lyle had said, “as level as a floor.”
Groups of large evergreens afforded a refreshing shade. Underneath the trees an immense, flat rock, covered with a snowy table-cloth and trimmed with vines and flowers, gave hint of some of the more substantial pleasures to be looked for later. At a distance gleamed the silvery cascades, their rainbow-tinted spray rising in a perpetual cloud of beauty. Far below could be seen the winding, canyon road, while above and beyond, on all sides, the mountains reared their glistening crests against the sky.
For a time they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the scene, till, at Miss Gladden’s suggestion, the tuning of the various instruments began, interspersed with jokes and merry, rippling laughter. Amidst the general merriment, Houston, with an air of great gravity, produced from his pocket the different parts of a flute, which he proceeded to fit together, saying:
“When you were speaking last evening about the music for to-day I had entirely forgotten the existence of this flute, but after we went to our room, Ned persisted in practicing on that unmusical instrument of his, and in searching in my trunk for a weapon of self defense, I found this, and it answered my purpose so well then, I brought it with me to-day.”
The music was a success, and it seemed as though the musicians would never grow weary, but when, at Miss Gladden’s request, Lyle sang “Kathleen Mavourneen,” her sweet, rich tones blending with the wild, plaintive notes of the violin, her listeners again seemed entranced by the witchery of the music, as on the night when first they heard her sing, and were only aroused by the sound of hearty, prolonged cheering from the canyon below.
Looking over the edge of the plateau, they discovered a party of about a dozen people, in a wagon drawn by six horses, who had stopped to listen to the music, and give their panting animals a chance to rest. Behind them was a line of three or four pack mules, laden with tents, cooking utensils and bedding.
“A camping party!” exclaimed Lyle, “the first of the season; they are on their way to Strawberry gulch.”
On catching sight of the group above on the plateau, the ladies below began waving their handkerchiefs, and the gentlemen were loud in their cheers and calls for more music.
“Give them another song, Miss Maverick,” said Rutherford, “that is a decided encore.”
Once more raising her violin, Lyle sang “The Maid of Dundee,” and never did song or singer meet with nobler applause, for the cheers from below in the canyon were joined with those from above on the plateau, and were echoed and re-echoed among the rocks, the last reverberations dying away and mingling with the roar of the distant cascades.
As the camping party seemed in no haste to continue their journey, Miss Gladden with the gentlemen then came forward to the edge of the plateau, and all joined in singing a few familiar songs, some of them accompanied by the guitar and the violin, after which, the party in the canyon, with much waving of hats and handkerchiefs, and many cheers in token of their appreciation, passed on their way.
After this little episode, a gypsy fire was kindled, and in a short time the rock table was spread with a dainty feast; chicken sandwiches, mountain trout, which Lyle had caught in the morning, delicately broiled, and the sweet, wild strawberries served in various ways, all equally tempting and delicious. After the feast, Houston proved himself an adept upon the violin, and he and Rutherford gave a number of college songs, and old plantation songs and dances, accompanied by the violin and banjo.
At last, as the long, gray twilight was slowly deepening, and the stars silently marshaling their forces in the evening sky, the two boats drifted across the lake, only guided, not propelled, by the oars, and the air, for a while, was filled with song. As they slowly approached the shore, however, the singing gradually ceased. For a while Rutherford talked of the coming of his brother; then he and Lyle were silent, but from the other boat, at a little distance, came low, murmuring tones. They had just entered upon the first pages of that beautiful story, old as eternity itself, and as enduring; the only one of earth’s stories upon whose closing page, as we gaze with eyes dim with the approaching shadows of death, we find no “finis” written, for it is to be continued in the shadowless life beyond.
Rutherford was thinking of some one far away, under European skies, and wishing that she were present with him there, to make his happiness complete.
And Lyle, with that face of wondrous beauty, yet calm and inscrutable as that of the sphinx, had any power as yet passed over the hidden depths of her woman’s nature, and troubled the waters? Were those eyes, with their far-away look, gazing into the past with its strange darkness and mystery, or striving to pierce the dim, impenetrable veil of the future? No one could say; perhaps she herself was scarcely conscious, but as they landed, Miss Gladden noted the new expression dawning in her eyes, and as the friends and lovers separated for the night, each one avowing that day to have been one of the most delightful of their whole lives, she wound her arm about Lyle in sisterly fashion, and drew her into her own room. Lyle, as was her custom, dropped upon a low seat beside her friend, but was silent.
“Are you looking backward or forward, to-night, Lyle?” asked Miss Gladden, taking the lovely face in both her hands, and gazing into the beautiful eyes.
Lyle’s color deepened slightly, as she replied:
“I hardly know; it seems sometimes as if I were looking into an altogether different life from this, a different world from that in which I have lived.”
“How so, my dear?” inquired her friend.
“I scarcely know how to describe it myself,” she replied; then asked abruptly, “Miss Gladden, do you believe we have ever had an existence prior to this? that we have lived on earth before, only amid different surroundings?”
“No,” answered Miss Gladden, “I can see no reason for such a belief as that; but why do you ask?”
“Only because it seems sometimes as if that were the only way in which I could account for some of my strange impressions and feelings.”
“Tell me about them,” said Miss Gladden, interested.
“They are so vague,” Lyle replied, “I hardly know how to describe them, but I have always felt them, more or less. When I read of life amid scenes of refinement and beauty, there is always an indefinable sense of familiarity about it all; and since you and Mr. Houston have been here, and I have lived such a different life,––especially since we have sung together so much,––the impression is much more vivid than before; even the music seems familiar, as if I had heard it all, or something like it, long ago, and yet it is utterly impossible, living the life I have. It must have been only in my dreams, those strange dreams I used to have so often, and which come to me even now.”
“And what are these dreams, dear? You have never before spoken to me of them.”
“No,” Lyle answered, “I have never spoken of them to any one; they have always been rather vague and indefinite, like the rest of my strange impressions and fancies; only they are all alike, it is almost precisely the same dream, no matter when it comes to me. There is only one feature that is very clear or distinct, and that is a beautiful face that is always bending over me, and always seems full of love and tenderness. Sometimes there are other faces in the background, but they are confused and indistinct,––I can only recall this one that is so beautiful. Then there is always a general sense of light and beauty, and sometimes I seem to hear music; and then it is all suddenly succeeded by an indescribable terror, in which the face vanishes, and from which I awake trembling with fright.”
“And you say you have had this dream always?” queried Miss Gladden.
“Yes, ever since I could remember. I don’t seem to be able to recall much about my early childhood, before I was five or six years old, but these dreams are among my earliest recollections, and I would sometimes awake crying with fright. After I met Jack, and he began teaching me, my mind was so taken up with study, that the dreams became less frequent, and for the last two or three years, I had almost forgotten them, till something seemed to recall them, and now it occurs often, especially after we have had an evening of song. I know I shall see that beautiful face to-night.”
“But whose face is it, Lyle?” questioned Miss Gladden; “surely, it must resemble some one you have seen.”
Lyle shook her head; “I have never seen any living person whom it resembled. That, together with all these strange impressions of which I have told you, is what seems so mysterious, and leads me to half believe I have lived another life, sometime, somewhere.”
Miss Gladden sat silently caressing the golden head. Her suspicions that Lyle had had other parents than those whom she knew as such, were almost confirmed, but would it be best, with no tangible proof, to hint such a thought to Lyle herself? While she was thus musing, Lyle continued:
“What seemed to me strangest of all, is, that though I cannot remember ever seeing a living face like the one in my dream, I have seen what I believe is a photograph of it.”
“When? and where?” asked Miss Gladden quickly, hoping to find some key to the problem she was trying to solve.
“A few weeks after your coming, and at Jack’s cabin,” Lyle replied.
“Did Jack show you the picture?”
“No, I do not know that he intended me to see it, but it was lying on the table that evening; I took it up and looked at it, but he did not seem to want to talk about it. I have never seen it since, and he told me that until that evening, he had not seen it for a long time.”
“And did you recognize it as the face of your dreams?”
“Not then; it seemed familiar, but it was not until after I reached home that I remembered my dream, and from that time, the dream returned. I see the face often now, and it is just like the picture, only possibly a little older and sweeter.”
“And you have never spoken to Jack about the picture since?”
“No, for I have not seen it, and he has never alluded to it. He admitted that evening it was the picture of some one he had loved dearly, and I have since thought perhaps he would rather I had not seen it.”
Miss Gladden was silent; her old theory regarding Jack’s being the father of Lyle, seemed to her now more probable than ever. She believed the picture to be that of Lyle’s own mother, who, it seemed evident, had lived long enough that her child remembered her in her dreams, though unable to recall her face at other times.
Very tenderly she bade Lyle good-night, determined that her next call at the little cabin should be made as early as possible.