CHAPTER XXXVII.
It was a very congenial little company that somewhat later gathered about the dinner table. There were no outsiders present on this occasion to check their conversation, and the room resounded with merry laughter as the young men related various reminiscences of their college days, or as Lyle gave her eastern friends some amusing glimpses of western life.
Morton Rutherford added his share to the general enjoyment, as he gave in an inimitable manner which fascinated his listeners, sketches of places and people he had met in his western journey; but a close observer would have noticed that his dark eyes often wandered to the face of the fair hostess, presiding at the table with such dignity, and his thoughts much of the time were far removed from the subject of conversation.
Of the strange, wild tumult in Lyle’s breast there was no token, save in her heightened color, and the added brilliancy of her eyes.
The plain, but wholesome mountain fare disappeared rapidly before the appetites sharpened by the bracing air of that altitude, and still the little company lingered at the table, loath to tear themselves away.
Plans were made for a few days and evenings of genuine enjoyment, before proceeding any further with the business in which all were so deeply interested. Houston and Van Dorn would of course be more or less confined by their work, and it was voted that, during the day, Mr. Rutherford should be entertained by the ladies, or, as the hunting and fishing season had now opened, he and Ned would be able to find considerable sport in the surrounding country. But the evenings were to be spent by the entire party in visits to the different points of interest and beauty already familiar to some of their number.
“And one of the first places to visit,” said Ned Rutherford, at this point in the conversation, “will be the cascades; we will go out there in boats, you know, with the guitar and violin, and have music just as we did the first time we ever went out. Great Scott! but I never will forget that night as long as I live!”
“With the ladies’ approval, that will be one of our first trips,” said Houston.
“You play and sing, do you not, Mr. Rutherford?” Miss Gladden inquired, addressing the elder brother.
“Yes, occasionally,” he answered, with a peculiar smile.
“What instrument do you use?”
“I can accompany myself on several different instruments,” he replied, “but the violin is my favorite; it is capable of more expression than most others.”
At last the little party adjourned to the porch, and Lyle, under the pretext of some household duties, excused herself, and escaped to her own little room. Here her forced composure gave way, and her highly wrought feelings found relief in a passionate burst of tears, though why she wept, she could not have told.
Unconsciously to herself, perhaps, Morton Rutherford had of late become the hero of her thoughts, partially on account of her high estimate of him, and also because of the sympathy which she felt would exist between them in taste and thought and feeling. She had dreamed of a friendship with him, perhaps more perfect and helpful than any she had yet known; but they had met, and in that one glance had been revealed to her a natural affinity deeper than any of which she had ever dreamed, and the impossibility of a calm, Platonic friendship between kindred spirits such as theirs.
Unconsciously to herself, Lyle had that day crossed the great divide, and womanhood, with its dower of love and joy, of pain and suffering, was henceforth hers. The mightiest element in her nature, which had lain dormant all these years, its power unsuspected even by herself, was now aroused, and even while she felt the throbbing of its new life, as yet, she knew not its name. She was young, her observation and her experience had been limited, and there had been no one to prepare her for the certain awakening of this mighty power, before whose conquering sway all else must yield.
She grew more calm, and as she reviewed the few friendships she had known,––the helpful kindness and tenderness of Jack in whom she had confided her childish griefs, the chivalry of Everard Houston, who from the first had constituted himself her champion and protector, and even the pleasant kindliness of Ned Rutherford, whom she scarcely deemed more than an acquaintance,––there was suddenly revealed to her quickened perception the distinction between friendship and love, and instantly she recognized the stranger who had taken possession of her heart: Love had come. Love was to be henceforth king, and she stood trembling and abashed in the presence of the new sovereign. Her tears flowed silently, but she was far from unhappy; love, even unknown and unreciprocated, brings its own sweet reward.
Whether her love would ever be returned by the one whose glance had awakened it in its might, she dared not even think. She knew not, as yet, in what light he would regard her. Notwithstanding the friendship and esteem manifested by the younger brother, she fully understood the insurmountable barrier which his pride had placed between himself and her. Would it exist in the mind of the elder brother also? Or would his keener insight, his superior perception discern her true position? Time alone would tell.
A little later, calm and queenly as ever, Lyle rejoined the little group, who had strolled out a short distance from the house, and were seated beside the lake, in the cooling shadow of a large rock.
She could not help observing the smile of pleasure with which Mr. Rutherford welcomed her approach, but she would not yet trust herself to hold any protracted conversation with him, and giving him only a bright little smile of recognition, she seated herself beside Ned, and began a playful badinage, as they had been accustomed to banter each other on his former visit. Morton Rutherford watched them curiously, listening to the war of words with a half smile, and evidently absorbed in his own thoughts, as, for a while, Miss Gladden and Mr. Van Dorn had the conversation to themselves, Houston having gone to the mines.
As the shadows began to lengthen, and the sun seemed hovering over a snow-crowned peak that stood out boldly against the western horizon, Houston was seen approaching the house, and at a little distance, Maverick and his two sons. Lyle, who was then standing on the outer edge of the group, talking with Miss Gladden, was quick to observe a sudden movement on Ned’s part, as, turning toward his brother, he made some brief remark in low tones, regarding the approaching trio. She well knew the tenor of his remark, and watched closely to see its effect.
She saw Morton Rutherford glance in the direction indicated by a slight motion of Ned’s head, and then, though he betrayed no surprise by word or movement, an expression of astonishment crossed his face, but only for an instant. His features grew white and stern, and he watched every movement of the three figures, as, with stealthy, slouching gait and suspicious looks, they stole around the corner of the house, and the expression of his eye seemed to Lyle like that of a judge passing sentence on a condemned criminal.
He did not look at Lyle immediately, perhaps he was conscious of the eyes watching him so narrowly from under the heavily drooping lids, fringed with long, golden lashes, but when he did look toward her, there was a depth of meaning in those dark eyes which she could not fathom.
Twenty-four hours before, Lyle standing there, under those circumstances, would have been crushed with humiliation, but in the light of the revelation of the night before, she met his glance with an expression which to him seemed utterly inscrutable. There was neither shame nor apology written on her face, as with a calm, bright smile, and the same self-possessed manner, she turned and passed into the house.
Upon entering the dining-room, Lyle heard angry words in the kitchen, and paused to listen. The voice was Maverick’s.
“Who in hell is that new feller you’ve got up here?”
“That’s the brother of the young feller that was here a spell ago,” answered the voice of Minty, who was just emerging from the pantry.
“Damn you! who asked you to say anything? Git out of here,” he roared, and Minty made a hasty retreat into the cellar.
“Who’s that new feller out there?” he again demanded of his wife.
“His name is Rutherford, and he’s a brother of the young man that come out here with Mr. Houston,” was her reply.
“What’s his business here?”
“I guess he hain’t got none, he seems to be out here for pleasure like his brother.”
“Pleasure!” growled Maverick, with an oath, “there’s too many of ’em, damn ’em, out here for pleasure; I’d give some of ’em some pleasure that they ain’t a lookin’ for, if I had a chance.”
His wife made no response.
“What’s that girl Lyle tricked out in such finery for?” he next asked.
“They’re clothes that Miss Gladden give her,” Mrs. Maverick replied, “and it saves us jest so much, so you needn’t growl; besides she looks nice.”
“Looks nice!” said Maverick, contemptuously, “you’re always bound to stick up for her! Look here, old woman,” he added, in a lower tone, but which Lyle could hear, “have you been tellin’ that girl anything? She don’t own me for her daddy lately, I notice; now, if you’ve been puttin’ her or anybody else onto anything of the kind, I can tell you you’ll be damned sorry for it before you git through with me.”
“I hain’t said a word, it’s jest a notion she’s took, I dun’no why. I hain’t said nothin’ nor I ain’t a goin’ to, as long as you behave yourself, Jim Maverick, but the proofs is all ready in case you don’t treat me and her jest as you’d orter.”
A terrible oath burst from Maverick’s lips, but the entrance of the two boys and Minty, prevented any further conversation on this subject; and Lyle, seated in the little porch whither she had retreated from the dining-room, reflected on what she had just heard, its meaning seeming very clear to her in the light of what Miss Gladden had told her the night before.
There were proofs then in existence, probably in that very house, as to her identity. Her friends were correct in their surmises: she had been stolen, and the villain who had committed the deed, even now trembled with apprehension lest his villainy should become known. Those proofs she must have, and it would be worse than useless to demand them of either Maverick or his wife. She must search for them. This she resolved to do, day by day, as opportunity afforded, until there should be no nook or corner which she had not thoroughly explored.
As Lyle recalled all that occurred within the past twenty-four hours, the most eventful period within her recollection thus far, she felt that she had virtually broken with the old life and all its associations, and that she stood upon the threshold of a new life, higher, nobler,––perhaps sweeter,––than any of which she had ever dreamed.
The return of the little company of friends to the house interrupted her thoughts, but not before she had decided fully as to her future course.
After supper, it was decided to spend that first evening on the summit of one of the nearest mountains, to watch the glories of the sunset, and to give Morton Rutherford a bird’s-eye view of the beautiful scenery, before introducing him to its details.
But on the second evening, the entire party set forth for the trip to the cascades, for which Ned was so especially desirous.
Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden led the little procession, Houston carrying her guitar. Ned had constituted himself Lyle’s escort by taking the violin, and they came next, while Morton Rutherford and Arthur Van Dorn brought up the rear.
Their two boats were already awaiting them, and Ned, having assisted Lyle to a seat, turned to Van Dorn.
“Mr. Van Dorn,” he said in his blandest tones, “may we have the pleasure of your company in our boat?”
As Van Dorn laughingly accepted the invitation, Morton Rutherford turned toward his brother, saying:
“Are you not going to extend an invitation to me, also?”
“Unfortunately,” said Ned, with as much dignity as he could assume, “this boat will seat but three people.”
“Is that so!” replied his brother, with a curious downward inflection, “unfortunately, then, for Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden, you will have to take the other boat, as I am going in this one myself,” and stepping lightly into the boat, he pulled it quickly out into the water, leaving Ned in a state of bewilderment, alone on shore, as Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden were already seated in their boat, and watching this little by-play.
There was a general laugh at Ned’s expense, as he clambered into the other boat, exclaiming good-naturedly:
“Well, Mort, that’s an awfully shabby trick, but then, it’s all I can expect of you, anyhow.”
“It’s all you deserve, after such attempted selfishness on your part,” replied his brother.
They rowed across the lake in the soft light, the glory of the setting sun still reflected from the surrounding peaks, the music of their boat songs accompanied by the dip and plash of the oars.
At last they reached the cascades, and rounding a little promontory, the glory of that wondrous scene suddenly burst upon them. For a moment Mr. Rutherford sat speechless, and Lyle, facing him, silently enjoyed his surprise and his ecstasy as keenly as he enjoyed the wonderful beauty about him. In his face, she read the same capacity for joy or for suffering which Nature had bestowed upon herself, and when his eyes suddenly met hers again, he saw the tears glistening in their shining depths, and with quick, intuitive sympathy, readily understood the cause.
For a while they rowed back and forth in almost silent admiration; then the boats were brought side by side at the foot of the cascades, and the air resounded with song; sometimes their voices all blending together in exquisite harmony, then in twos and threes, while occasionally, some beautiful old song would be given as a solo.
It had been an evening of rare enjoyment for each one, and they were just about to turn their boats homeward, when Ned Rutherford exclaimed:
“I say, don’t let us leave this spot until Miss Maverick sings that song she gave us the first time we came out here, the first we ever heard her sing. I never can forget that song, and it is always associated with this place.”
The others joined in the request. Lyle hesitated. Could she trust herself to sing that song to-night? It was easy to sing when love had come to another’s heart, but could she sing it now that he had come to her own?
She consented, and the oars rested once more. With her eyes fixed on the distant mountains, Lyle began her song:
“Love is come with a song and a smile.”
At the first words, Morton Rutherford started, and as he fixed his eyes on the beautiful singer, her fair form and shining hair outlined against the silvery cascades, it seemed to him the loveliest sight of his whole life.
Her voice, exquisitely sweet as she began, gained in expression and power, until she sang as she had never sung before; and as the last notes died away, Houston, bending his head low, whispered to Miss Gladden:
“Leslie, my dear, do you think now that Lyle’s heart is not susceptible? She never could sing that song in that way if she knew nothing of love.”
And Miss Gladden made no reply, for her own heart was too full for words.
The song was ended, and Lyle’s eyes suddenly met the dark ones fixed upon her face, and though no words were spoken, she read in their depths that hers was not the only heart to which love had come.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
That night the diminutive lamp that did duty in the room assigned to the two brothers burned till long past the hour of midnight. By its dim light, Ned Rutherford indited a letter to his fiancee, while his brother quietly paced back and forth, the entire length of the small apartment, his hands clasped behind him and his head thrown back,––his usual attitude when in deep thought.
“Getting up another article on the application of electric force?” inquired Ned, as he paused to watch his brother.
“No,” was the reply, “I am thinking at present of a force far more subtle and more powerful than that of electricity.”
“Why, how’s that?” asked Ned in surprise, “I thought electricity was one of your pet hobbies.”
“Never mind about my pet hobbies,” said his brother, with a smile, “just continue your writing for the present.”
Half an hour later, as Ned folded and sealed the voluminous letter, and placed upon it the long, foreign address, his brother, watching him with a curious half smile, said:
“I shall have to give you credit for a great deal of constancy, Ned, more than I really supposed you possessed.”
“How’s that?” asked Ned, with a slight blush, “to what do you refer.”
“To your fidelity to your affianced,” Morton replied, “under the rather adverse circumstances that attend your suit, and notwithstanding the unusual attractions by which you have been surrounded here.”
“Well, as to that,” said Ned, slowly, “I don’t know as I deserve so very much credit. Houston appropriated Miss Gladden to himself pretty soon after we came here, and besides, she isn’t exactly my style, after all; she would suit Houston a great deal better than me.”
“Ah,” said his brother, quietly, “and what of the younger lady? Perhaps she is not your style, either?”
“Well, no, I should say not,” Ned replied, with the least perceptible scorn in his tone, “not but what she is a lovely girl, and I respect her, and feel sorry for her, but I should think one glimpse of her family would decide that question, once for all.”
“Ned,” said Morton Rutherford, pausing in his walk, directly in front of his brother, “is it possible that you are so blind as not to see that Miss Maverick, as you call her,––I prefer to call her Lyle,––has no connection whatever with the family in which she lives?”
“Do you think so?” Ned inquired, with surprise, “I remember Houston and Miss Gladden expressed the same opinion when I was here before, but I don’t think they had any proof that such was the case, and even if it were so, I don’t see how it helps the matter much, for nobody knows to what sort of a family she really does belong.”
“Ned,” said his brother, indignantly, “I know nothing of the opinion of Houston or Miss Gladden upon this subject, but where are your own eyes, and where is your reason? If you discovered one of the rarest and most beautiful flowers known to exist in the plant world, in a heap of tailings out here among these mines, would you immediately conclude that, because you had found it there, it must be indigenous to the spot? Look at that girl, and tell me if there is one trace in feature, in form, in manner, or in speech, of plebeian blood, and then will you tell me that she is in any way connected with people such as these? They are not merely plebeian, they are low, debased, criminal. They are criminals of the deepest dye, not only capable of any villainy, but already guilty, and to such a degree that their guilt has made them shrinking, skulking cowards.”
“But, Mort, if you are correct, and I don’t say that you are not, how does she come to be in such a place as this, with no memory of anything different?”
“Through the villainy of that man whom you pointed out to me as her father; through his villainy, and in no other way.”
“You think she was stolen?”
“I do; I can see in his face that he has committed some terrible crime,––perhaps many of them,––and he is afraid to look a stranger in the eye; and a glance at that beautiful girl is enough to fasten upon him one of his crimes. She is from a family whose blood is as pure from any taint, physical, mental, or moral, as is your own, and unless I am greatly mistaken, she is not wholly unconscious of this herself.”
“Great Heavens!” exclaimed the younger brother, “I never dreamed of all this! If it is really as you think, I only wish we could find her true home, and have her restored to it, and make that scoundrel suffer for his crime.”
“If it is among the possibilities, it shall be done,” said Morton Rutherford, quietly, but in a tone which startled Ned with its volume of meaning. The latter looked up in quick surprise, a question on his lips, but he knew his brother’s face too well; the question was not asked, and he only said:
“Good for you, Mort, and here’s my hand; I’m with you on this, whatever you do.”
For the next few days, nothing of any special import occurred at the camp. Houston, soon after the arrival of Morton and Ned Rutherford, had written to his uncle that preparations were now about completed, and everything was so nearly in readiness that he and his party had better come out immediately to one of the western cities, from which they could be summoned by telegraph on short notice. Accordingly, Mr. Cameron had already left New York, and in company with his attorney and the English expert, was now on his way west, Mrs. Cameron also accompanying him as far west as Chicago, where she was to stop with friends while he went on to the mines, as she had insisted that she would feel much happier to be nearer her husband and Everard, so that she could more easily reach them in the event of any trouble at the mines.
Van Dorn was progressing well with his work, and the machine would soon be ready for its trial test, though he said he would in all probability first have to go to Silver City, in order to have replaced one or two small but important parts which had been broken in the long, westward journey.
Lyle, in the midst of the strange happiness which had lately come to her heart, had not forgotten her resolve to search for the proofs, of such importance to her. On the contrary, she had now a new and powerful incentive which gave additional zest to her efforts, although, thus far, they had proved unsuccessful.
One afternoon, after having made a particularly thorough but fruitless search, she stole quietly out of the house, and following the little path along the shore of the lake, soon found herself in her favorite retreat among the rocks, a secluded place from which there was no sign of human habitation; only the mountains in their vast solitudes were visible, their silent grandeur more eloquent than words. It was a spot that she had loved even in her childhood, and which had, in later years, been her resort for study and reflection.
In a brief interview with Jack, at the cabin, the previous evening, she had told him of her increasingly distinct recollections of her mother, of the angry words between Maverick and his wife which she had overheard, and of her search which she felt would yet result in her obtaining possession of the necessary proofs of her identity.
To her surprise, Jack, while commending the course which she was taking, yet seemed strangely averse to talking much with her upon the subject. At last, as she was leaving the cabin, he had taken her hands in his, saying, in a strangely tender tone:
“My dear Lyle, because I say little, you must not think I take no interest in this affair which concerns you so closely. I am deeply interested, more deeply than you will probably ever know, but it is for many reasons a painful subject to me, one full of bitter memories; but I have one favor to ask of you, my dear child, which I know you will grant for the sake of the memory of the happy hours we have spent together,––it is this; that whatever proof you may succeed in finding, you will first bring to me.”
“Certainly I will, dear Jack,” Lyle had replied, wondering at his manner, “in whom should I confide if not in you, who have been my first and best friend.”
And he, his dark, piercing eyes looking into the depths of her own, their gaze softened by tender affection, had replied:
“Yes, your friend always, Lyle, remember that; none truer or more devoted to you or your welfare; but before long, my dear, your heart will learn, if it has not learned already, the difference between friendship and love.”
With burning cheeks and tearful eyes Lyle recalled his words, and pondered deeply on the strange bond that seemed, in some way, to exist between his life and hers, but the longer she tried to solve the problem, the deeper and more obscure it seemed.
In the midst of her reflections, she heard a light step upon the rocky footpath, and looking up, saw Morton Rutherford approaching. So absorbed was he in the study of the masses of rock about him, on which had been traced by the finger of the centuries, in wonderful hieroglyphics, the early history of the earth, that for a time he was unconscious of her presence there. When he saw her he raised his hat and came quickly forward.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, in deep, musical tones, “I supposed myself alone with my own thoughts; am I intruding? if so, send me away at once.”
“No, stay, if you please,” said Lyle.
“Thank you,” he answered, seating himself on the rocks at a little distance, “you appeared so lost in thought I feared my coming might annoy you.”
“No,” she replied, “my thoughts were too perplexing, I was growing weary of them.”
Mr. Rutherford glanced at the surrounding mountains; “Were you, too, trying to fathom the mystery of the eternal hills?” he asked.
“No,” was her reply, “I have never attempted anything so far beyond me as that; I have found more mysteries in every-day, human life than I could solve.”
Morton Rutherford was silent for a few moments, then he said in low tones:
“I hope you will pardon me when I say, that to me, your own life here, under the existing circumstances and conditions, is a mystery, one which seems capable of but one solution.”
“And what would be your solution?” she asked quickly.
He saw that she understood his meaning, and was watching him intently, eagerly, and he said:
“Permit me to reply to your question by asking one in return. Do you not believe that your life had a beginning elsewhere than here, and under far different conditions?”
“It is more than a belief with me, it is a certainty, and yet, strange as it may appear to you, this knowledge has come to me but recently, and even now, I know nothing of what those conditions may have been, except that they were totally unlike these that exist here.”
“You interest me very much are you willing to tell me how you arrived at this knowledge of which you speak?”
Very briefly, and without going into details, Lyle, in response to the magnetic sympathy of those dark eyes, gave a vivid outline of her life, and of the vague impressions which of late were becoming distinct recollections, and of her hope of soon finding tangible evidence regarding the life which was daily growing more and more of a reality.
Mr. Rutherford listened with intense interest to the strange story, and when she had finished, he said slowly, as he took a short turn up and down the rocky path:
“Believe me, I have not listened to this through mere, idle curiosity; much as your story has interested me, it has not surprised me, for I read the truth almost from our first meeting.”
Lyle gave him a smile of rare sweetness and deep significance; “I am glad to know that,” she said simply.
“Why so?” he asked, pausing and seating himself beside her; “Did you think I could fail to recognize the soul that looked out to welcome me when I first came, no matter amid what surroundings I found it?” Then, as she remained silent, he continued, his tones thrilling her heart as no human voice had ever done before:
“Since the hour that I first met you, Lyle, life has changed for me,––I think perhaps it will never be quite the same again for either of us. I know that I love you with a love that, whether reciprocated or not, can never die; that henceforth, you will be,––you must be,––a part of my very life. Let me care for you and help you; let me help you in your search for the home for which you were created, and of which you are worthy; but, Lyle, before you search any farther for that home, will you not consent to become the queen of my home, as you are already the queen of my heart?”
Lyle lifted her head proudly, though the tears glistened on the long, golden lashes; “Do you ask me that, here and now, knowing nothing as yet, of what the future may reveal?”
“I do; I have no fear for the future if I but have your love. Do you think that, perhaps, in the days to come, amid other and different surroundings, you might find some one whose love your heart would choose in preference to mine?”
“Never!” cried Lyle, impulsively, turning with outstretched arms to him, “You are the only one I have ever loved,––the only one I could ever love!”
“Then that is enough for me,” he replied, drawing her closely to his breast; “you have come forth from the years of the wretched past, with a soul star-white and shining, and I have no fears for the future.”
When the little group of friends assembled that evening, it was not long before some one discovered that a small diamond ring, of exquisite, antique design, which Morton Rutherford had worn, had, in some manner, become transferred to Lyle’s hand. “Wear this, for the present,” he had said, in taking it from his own hand, “until I can obtain a costlier one for you,” but Lyle had insisted that once placed upon her hand, there it must remain, as she would prize it far above any other which money could buy; and such had been the final decision.
When this significant fact had been discovered by one of the little company, the intelligence was speedily telegraphed to the rest, and Morton and Lyle soon found themselves the recipients of hearty and affectionate congratulations from the others.
The astonishment depicted on Ned’s face, when he comprehended the turn affairs had taken, was beyond description, but in the little excitement which prevailed for a few moments, it passed unnoticed, so that he had sufficiently recovered himself to join very gracefully in the general congratulations when his turn came.
A few hours later, however, as he went out for a stroll with Van Dorn, while his brother and Houston started out in the direction of Jack’s cabin, his astonishment found expression.
“Great Scott! but I never was so dumfounded in my life! I tell you what, Van, I believe people lose their wits when they are in love!”
“On whose experience do you base your highly original remark, your brother’s or your own?”
“Well, both, and lots of others besides. I never yet saw a person who was in love that didn’t act just the reverse of what you would expect, or of what they would under ordinary circumstances. Now, look at us two, for instance. Look at me! Everybody calls me rash and impetuous, and Mort is always lecturing me for it, and it’s always my way to rush head-first into anything that comes along, and here I’ve been making love, in the regular, orthodox fashion, to a girl I’ve known ever since I wore knickerbockers, and playing propriety and all that to my prospective father-in-law; and now see Mort! the most precise, deliberate fellow you ever saw, never says or does anything that isn’t exactly suited to the occasion, you know; and here he goes and tumbles head over heels in love with a pretty girl the first time he sees her, and when he doesn’t know a blessed thing about her, and, by George! engages himself to her before he’s known her a week! If that isn’t a case of clear-gone lunacy, then I never saw one.”
Van Dorn laughed; “Well, of the two, I should prefer your brother’s form of lunacy to yours; if I ever was to be in love, I should want the misery over as quickly as possible.”
As Houston and his friend, having made a brief call at the cabin, rose to take their leave, the former observed Jack watching Rutherford’s face with a degree of interest unusual for him to manifest in a stranger.
“I want you and my friend, Rutherford, to know each other the little time he will be here,” he said, addressing Jack, “for though I have never known what it was to have a brother in reality, he seems to me to more nearly fill that position than any one I have known, and I have told him of your kindness and assistance, and the strange bond that has seemed to unite us from the first, though we met as strangers, so he naturally wishes to meet you.”
There was a peculiar quiver of the lips under the heavy, black beard, as Jack replied, in deep, full tones, “Mr. Rutherford’s face carries with it its own recommendation, and the fact that he is as a brother to yourself will insure him a double welcome here as often as he pleases to come during his stay.”
Houston passed onward into the outer room, pausing to chat with Mike, while Morton Rutherford lingered, and extending his hand to Jack, said in low tones:
“I have another reason for wishing to meet you. From what Lyle has told me, I know you to have been, until very recently, her only friend, and to you, as to her friend, and perhaps, in one sense, her guardian, I wish to state that I love her, and have been so fortunate as to win her love in return; and that I hope before very long, my home will be hers.”
“Yes, I know,” Jack responded, briefly.
“What! has she already told you?” Rutherford asked in surprise.
“Only unconsciously; but I read soon after your coming, that her heart was no longer her own.”
Then grasping Rutherford’s hand warmly, he added, in tones vibrating with some deep emotion.
“You have chosen better than you know. I believe I can trust her and her happiness in your hands. God bless you both! and may He bless you in proportion to your love and fidelity toward her!”
CHAPTER XXXIX.
The following day, Mr. Blaisdell suddenly made his appearance at the camp, accompanied by Mr. Rivers and a mining expert who had come out in the interests of a Chicago firm, looking for good paying investments. Houston had received no word of their coming, and the first intimation which he had of their arrival was the sight of the three gentlemen, as he approached the house at dinner time.
“How are you, Houston?” said Mr. Blaisdell, pausing in his walk up and down before the house, and extending his hand, “How’s the work progressing?”
“Finely,” replied Houston, “the output is steadily increasing, week by week.”
“Keeps you pretty busy, I suppose? Well, I hope we can give you a little help before long; we’ve located Barden at last, and he starts for the west next week. Let me introduce you to Mr. Parsons, a mining expert from Chicago; Mr. Parsons, this is Mr. Houston, our general superintendent.”
Houston exchanged greetings with the stranger, and with Mr. Rivers, the latter watching him closely, though saying very little.
Dinner was served as quickly as possible, as Mr. Parsons was limited for time, and was to return to Silver City on the evening train. Most of the conversation at the table was on mines and mining, Mr. Blaisdell trying to impress each one present, Mr. Parsons in particular, with his extensive knowledge, both theoretical and practical, on all that pertained to the subject, as well as with a sense of the immense value of the properties owned by the company.
“Mr. W. E. Cameron, of New York, owns some very valuable mines out here, I understand,” said Mr. Parsons casually, his innocent remark producing rather a startling effect upon the minds of his listeners, though they, one and all, succeeded in preserving a calm exterior.
“He has an interest in some very fine properties,” replied Mr. Blaisdell blandly, though with a visible contracting of the muscles about the mouth, “you are acquainted with Mr. Cameron, I presume?”
“Oh, no, on the contrary, I never even met the gentleman, but he is extensively known among the leading business houses of Chicago, and he was pointed out to me, the day I came away, as the owner of some of the finest mines in this locality,” Mr. Parsons explained, thereby carrying consternation to the heart of every one present.
“Did I understand you to say that Mr. Cameron was in Chicago?” inquired Mr. Blaisdell, while Mr. Rivers’ restless eyes were at once on the alert.
“Certainly, he was there the day I left; at least, a gentleman with whom I happened to be talking about western investments, pointed him out to me, and cited him as the owner of western properties.”
“Ah, yes, did you hear anything said as to whether he was coming this way?”
“Nothing, nothing whatever, except what I have stated.”
“It’s all right,” said Mr. Rivers, speaking for the first time, and in his quick, incisive way; he feared Mr. Blaisdell had betrayed his anxiety; “all right, only we would like to know his whereabouts, as it will be necessary to wire him in a day or two, regarding some ore shipments. Can you give us the hotel where he was stopping?”
“I am very sorry that I cannot oblige you, but I have not the least idea where he was located; I simply saw him passing on the street.”
“It is of no consequence,” replied Mr. Blaisdell, with assumed indifference, “we can of course ascertain his present address from the New York house; it will take a little more time, that is all. We had better proceed to the mines at once, if Mr. Parsons is ready.”
When they had left and Haight was on his way to the mills, the four young men held a few moments’ consultation outside the house.
“By Jingo!” exclaimed Ned Rutherford, “it looks as though old Buncombe was going to get on to our surprise party that we’re planning for him! What are you fellows going to do about it?”
“Well,” said Van Dorn. “I’m not sure whether this is going to interfere with our arrangements or not; what do you think, Everard? will the company ‘smell a rat’ anywhere?”
“They are evidently alarmed at the possibility of Mr. Cameron’s coming out here, but there is nothing yet to arouse their suspicions against us, so I do not think it will interfere materially with our plans at present. They will be able to learn nothing of my uncle’s movements from the New York house, as he will have forestalled them there. He had but just reached Chicago when this Parsons left, and as he and Mr. Whitney wished, if possible, to remain there a few days, to consult with a legal firm who are personal friends of theirs, I think it best, in case this company remains quiet, to take no action yet for two or three days; but if the officers of the company begin to appear suspicious, or as if they were trying to cover their tracks, the sooner we telegraph for our party, the better; get them here as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, that will be best,” said Morton Rutherford, “if their suspicions are aroused, we cannot be too expeditious, for they will be desperate when they find themselves cornered.”
“We must hold ourselves in readiness to act promptly,” Houston added, “probably within twenty-four hours we will be able to decide which course to pursue.”
Houston went to his work determined to keep a close watch on the movements of Blaisdell and Rivers. A couple of hours later, however, the three men entered the mill where he was engaged superintending the weighing of some ore; Mr. Rivers went at once to Haight’s little private office, while Blaisdell approached him with the expert.
“Mr. Houston,” he said, “just take Mr. Parsons through the mills and entertain him for the next half hour. Mr. Rivers and myself will be engaged about that length of time.”
Houston complied with the request, and in a very short time discovered that Mr. Parsons’ knowledge of metallurgy and mineralogy was exceedingly limited, but that in exact proportion to his own ignorance, he had been profoundly impressed by the knowledge which Mr. Blaisdell had aired for his especial benefit, and the parrot-like way in which he repeated some of the expressions which Mr. Blaisdell kept as his “stock in trade,” was very amusing.
Meanwhile Houston was deeply interested in the private meeting held in Haight’s little dingy room, as he felt certain that some issues were being discussed and decisions reached that would, in their results, be of the greatest importance to him, and he awaited the reappearance of the general manager and secretary with considerable expectancy.
He was not disappointed; a glance at their faces revealed that the subjects under discussion had not been pleasant. Mr. Blaisdell’s face was white, and set in hard, determined lines, while that of his companion was flushed with anger, and his cunning, crafty eyes were full of suspicion, as they glanced repeatedly in Houston’s direction.
“Mr. Parsons,” said Mr. Blaisdell, “we will have to ask you to excuse Mr. Houston, as we have a little business with him, and if you will step over there in the office and sit down, we will have completed our business in half or three-quarters of an hour; by that time the team will be here, in readiness to take us to the train.”
After a few moments of desultory conversation about the work which Houston knew to be only preliminary, during which Mr. Rivers moved about in a nervous, restless manner, Mr. Blaisdell said:
“Mr. Houston, we hear some rather strange reports concerning your conduct lately; your actions have certainly been highly censurable, and the least that can be said is that you have exceeded your authority here in a very marked degree.”
“In what respect have I exceeded my authority?” demanded Houston, folding his arms, with an expression on his face that made the general manager regret that he had begun the encounter; but it was too late to retreat, besides, Rivers was watching him!
“In your manner of discharging the duties assigned to you; you have taken advantage of your position in the most reprehensible and unworthy way, and have overstepped the bounds when you had no right whatever to do so.”
“I shall have to ask you to be a little more explicit, Mr. Blaisdell,” Houston replied.
“Why don’t you come to the point, Blaisdell?” said Rivers impatiently. “What’s the use of beating about the bush? The long and the short of it is just this,” he added, turning to Houston, “you have been taking upon yourself what did not concern you, prying around, late at night, in mines with which you had nothing whatever to do, in company with miners who had no more business there than you had.”
“To what mine do you refer?” asked Houston, with exasperating persistency.
“I mean the Lucky Chance, and you know it,” retorted Rivers angrily.
“Mr. Rivers,” said Houston, in a tone that Blaisdell had heard on a former occasion, and with a steel-like glitter in his eyes that was anything but attractive to either of the gentlemen present; “Mr. Blaisdell knows, if you do not, that since my first coming here, whatever kind of work has been assigned to me, I have thoroughly familiarized myself with it. When I was given charge of these mines I had reason to suppose that each and every mine owned by the company was included under my supervision, and if there were any which the officers of the company, for reasons of their own, wished excluded from such supervision, it was their business so to inform me. I have not been so informed. Mr. Blaisdell himself took me into that mine, and nothing was said to lead me to suppose that that mine was any exception to those placed in my charge, and your informant, if he chose so to do, could tell you that I have inspected in like manner each and every mine under my supervision, taking with me one or both of the same men, when the mine happened to be one with which I was not familiar.”
“His intentions were all right,” interposed Mr. Blaisdell, “he was over-zealous, that was all.”
“Intentions be damned!” said Mr. Rivers, angrily, “he was altogether too officious, and I won’t have it; people in my employ have to know their place and keep it.”
“That is all very well,” said Houston, in cutting tones, “but I will not ask you, Mr. Rivers, or any one connected with this company, to tell me my place.”
“What!” exclaimed Rivers in a rage, “let me tell you, young man, it is to your interest to be a little careful.”
“Is it?” answered Houston scornfully; “Mr. Rivers,” he added, advancing toward that gentleman, “why don’t you discharge me? Wouldn’t that be to your interest?”
Mr. Rivers saw he had gone too far; “No,” he answered quickly, though sullenly, “we have said nothing about discharging you; you are too efficient a man for us to lose.”
“No, Houston,” added Mr. Blaisdell, “we wouldn’t think of discharging you, you’re too good a man.”
“No, I’m not too good a man,” replied Houston, facing them both with a look which they understood; “you don’t discharge me simply because,––you don’t dare to!” and he emphasized the last words with a heavy blow upon a rude desk standing near.
Blaisdell and Rivers exchanged glances, and for a moment were speechless. The former was the first to recover himself.
“Come, Houston,” he said, in a conciliatory tone, “we won’t have any more words; we all understand one another pretty well, and there’ll be no more complaints or trouble. You go on pretty much as you have done, and it will be all right. It’s time we were getting back now, but I’ll be out here next week with Barden, and we’ll fix things up satisfactory all ’round.”
“When will he get here?” asked Houston.
“The latter part of next week.”
Houston thought an instant, his party would be there the first or middle of the week.
“Very well,” he replied, “I tender my resignation now, to take effect when he comes.”
“Oh, no, Houston, no indeed, why, we couldn’t think of such a thing,” said Blaisdell, really alarmed, while Rivers maintained a sullen silence.
“I am not particularly anxious to hold this position, I can assure you; there is very little in it but hard work.”
“Oh, well, well, you stay by us a while longer, and we’ll take you into the company yet.”
“No,” said Houston, “it would be no use taking me into the company, I wouldn’t know my place, or keep it,” and with that parting shot, he turned and left them.
“Blaisdell,” said Rivers, his face relaxing for a moment into a grim smile, “it’s just as I told you, your smart young man is too smart for you. It’s my opinion we’ve caught a tartar;––we’re afraid to keep him, and we don’t dare let him go.”