The Angel of the Gila Part 17

Although the cla.s.s had organized as the Gila Club, for study and social life, the meetings thus far had been for the purpose of study only.

From the inception of the club, it had met with popular favor. For many a day, nothing had been so much talked of, and talked of with such unqualified approval. The knowledge of the teacher, her unselfish interest in the men, her goodness and kindness, were themes upon which many a rough man grew eloquent. Had Esther Bright been a Sister of Mercy, in the sacred garb of the Church, she could hardly have been revered more than she was. It never occurred to her as she went and came among them, that she needed a protector. Before the year was over, many a one in that group would have risked his life to save hers.

And yet, Esther Bright was not such an unusual woman. Such as she may be found almost anywhere in this land, sanctifying the home; rearing children to be true men and women; teaching in the schools; ministering to the sick; protecting the pure; rescuing the fallen; and exemplifying in every act of their lives, Christ's teachings of love and mercy. And the work of this great sisterhood goes quietly, unfalteringly on, making, as no other force does, for the real progress of the race.

An Esther Bright is never written up in glaring headlines of yellow journalism; an Esther Bright is never offered in barter for a foreign t.i.tle and a degenerate husband; such as she are never seen at the gaming table, nor among the cigarette and c.o.c.ktail devotees. We find her in places where the world's needs are great, calm, well-poised, intelligent, capable, sympathetic; the greatest moral force of the age.

The common man, if decent, always respects such a woman. She becomes to him a saint, an ideal; and in proportion to his respect for her, is his own moral uplift possible.

So those rough men of Gila, in those days of long ago, came to look upon Esther Bright as a sort of saint, their Angel, as they called her; and with this deepening respect for her, there gradually grew up in them, faint at first, but sure at last, a wholesome respect for all womankind. Such was the atmosphere of the Gila Club.

Among the first to attend the meetings, after the organization of the club, was Patrick Murphy, whom Esther had not seen since the night of the ball. He came with John Harding, and as he entered the room, he took his pipe from his mouth, jerked his slouch hat from his head, and gave a queer little duck in lieu of a bow.

"I am plazed to be wid yez, Miss." He smiled broadly.

She a.s.sured him of a cordial welcome from all, extending her hand as she spoke. He gripped it till she winced, and became so engrossed in hearing himself talk that he forgot to release it.

"The byes has been tellin' av me as yez learn 'em ter git on. Now that's what Oi allus preach,--git on. There's no use allus bein' wid yer nose ter the grindstone."

He released her hand to stuff more tobacco in his pipe. After a puff or two, he continued his remarks:

"The childthren has been gittin' on so well, Oi sez to mesilf, sez Oi, p'raps the schoolma'am can learn me ter figger, an' read an' write. So here Oi am," (slapping his chest heartily, as that portion of his anatomy rose an inch higher) "here Oi am!"

Just then Esther's attention was sought by a group of newcomers.

Kenneth watched her att.i.tude towards the people. She was gracious and cordial, but there was about her a fine reserve that the commonest man felt, and tacitly respected.

At first, this young Englishman had been attracted to the young New England girl by the delicate loveliness of her face, and the elegance of her manner. He had felt, from the first, that in his social intercourse with her, he must rise above the empty plat.i.tudes of society. There were times when he flattered himself he had made progress in her favor. Then, when he presumed upon this, he was met by a strong wall of reserve.

Here she was now, bestowing smiles and gracious words upon just common men. He was filled with disgust. Then he, gentleman as he was, man of the world, university graduate, engineer, felt his self-love wounded; and he thereupon had an acute attack of sulks.

What was she to him, anyway?

The stern patrician face looked coldly, cynically on at the men around him. The "vulgar herd," he called them.

Just in the midst of his morbid reflections, he heard a merry, contagious laugh from Esther. He did not glance up. But, in an instant, she was at his side, telling with great glee the skit that had provoked the laughter. It was so irresistibly funny, Kenneth laughed with them, and the ice was broken.

To be sure, he did not know Esther Bright as he did the alphabet, but what of that? Who could sound the deeps of such a rare woman's soul?

She _was_ a rare woman. He conceded that every time he held an argument with himself, when she was the question of the argument.

Always in her life, he was sure, there would be a reserve, through which no one could pa.s.s, unless it might be the ordained of G.o.d. She fascinated him more and more. One moment, in his adoration, he could have humbled himself to the dust to win one gracious word from her; at other times, his pride made him as silent and immovable as a sphinx.

On this particular night at the club, Kenneth was in one of his moods.

If Esther saw, she did not betray it. She came to him, telling in a straightforward way, that the work had grown so she could not do it all herself, and do justice to the men? Would he help her? There was a cla.s.s in arithmetic. Would he kindly teach that for her to-night?

Kenneth looked savage.

"Oh, don't say no," she urged appealingly. "They are working in compound numbers and are doing so well. _Won't_ you take the cla.s.s?"

she urged, again. And Kenneth consented.

It is but justice to say that the selection of the teacher proved wise. What this did for Kenneth himself is not the least part of the good resulting therefrom.

Soon the click of pencils, and occasional questions and answers indicated that the arithmetic cla.s.ses were at work. In one corner, the dignified and scholarly John Clayton sat helping a young miner learn to write. By her desk, sat Esther Bright, teaching Patrick Murphy to read.

Learning to read when a man is forty-five is no easy task. Patrick Murphy did not find it so. He found it rather humiliating, but his unfailing good humor helped him out.

The teacher began with script sentences, using objects to develop these. She wrote the sentences on the blackboard. Again and again the sentences were erased and then rewritten. But the pupil at last remembered.

One sentence was, "I am a man." Patrick hesitated; then solemnly said, as though reading:

"Oi certainly am not a woman, manin' no disrespict to women folk, Miss."

She read quietly from the blackboard again, "I am a man."

"Perhaps, Miss, it would be more intilligint fur me ter say, 'Oi am an Oirishman.'"

"Very well," she said, smiling, "I will write the sentence that way."

"You see, Miss," he continued, with droll seriousness, "it is ividint Oi am a man. Let me read the sintinces agin!" And he read them correctly.

Here the cla.s.ses changed, each teacher helping a group of men with a simple reading lesson. Then followed the lesson in penmans.h.i.+p, taught by Esther Bright, and the work of the evening was over.

As the three teachers left the schoolhouse door, Mr. Clayton laid his hand on Kenneth's shoulder, and said:

"Come over to see Mrs. Clayton a little while. It's still early."

Kenneth hesitated.

"Yes, do," urged Esther. "We have some plans to work out for the club, you know, and we need your help."

Again there was an appeal in her voice. What a brute he had been! What a fool! So he strolled along with the two. As they stepped on the veranda, they heard a deep voice.

"Lord Kelwin!" exclaimed John Clayton.

The greetings over, the meeting of the club and its possibilities became the subject of discussion.

"Why can't you join us, Lord Kelwin?" questioned the host.

"Yes, why not?" said Esther, with sudden animation.

Kenneth Hastings' face darkened.

"Ah--I--well--" stammered Lord Kelwin. "I didn't suppose my services--ah--would--ah--would be agreeable to the _teacher_,"--and he looked first at Esther Bright, and then at Kenneth Hastings.

A single, hectic flush suddenly appeared in one of Esther's cheeks.

Then Mr. Clayton spoke.

"You do not seem to understand, Lord Kelwin, that Miss Bright's cla.s.s has grown so rapidly she has had to have a.s.sistance, and Mr. Hastings and I, for lack of better material, have been pressed into service.

Come, yourself, and you'll want to help the good work on." Lord Kelwin raised his monocle.

Esther spoke quickly, with more enthusiasm than usual.