Benton of the Royal Mounted Part 35

With the recollection of _such_ a woman as your mother lingering still in my remembrance,-whose dear face-G.o.d grant, I may behold again, shortly-can you wonder that none other has come into my life to take her place, and that I have been true to the memory of my first, and only love. You alone of your family have _her_ eyes, and impulsive, loving ways, and for those reasons were always my favorite-headstrong lad, though you were.

On the subject of your estrangement from your family, I have nothing to say, beyond that I consider that it is a matter which lies entirely between your own conscience-and G.o.d. You were sorely tried, I know.

I am leaving to you the greater portion of my money. It is my desire, as through it, I hope, your future path in life will be smoothed considerably. May it ultimately bring you the happiness of enabling you to marry a good, true, loving woman, and of living henceforth, in that station of life to which you properly belong.

Do not grieve for me my lad!... Best think of me just as a kindly old soldier, at the end of his service, who was ready and willing to go to his rest-only awaiting "The Last Post" to be sounded. I have not lived altogether unhappily. I have drunk deeply of the joys of life in my time, and I possess many good and true friends. My days, thank G.o.d, have been, for the most part, pa.s.sed cleanly as a _man_-in the open, breathing His fresh air. Through it I have had ever your dear mother's memory to keep my conscience clear, and have striven steadfastly to adhere and live up to, most all, I trust, of the precepts that are embodied in the formula, "An officer, and a gentleman." As in the sunset of my life I sit alone in my chair in the twilight, dreaming of bygone days, it seems to me that I can see the s.h.i.+ning welcome of many long-lost and well-remembered faces.

They come and go, and I love them well enough, but _one_-especially beloved above the rest is with me always.

But why speak of _her_?... Now that she is again so near to me-now that I go, I hope, where _she_ has gone!... The guiding-light of the soul of her true womanhood is s.h.i.+ning brighter and brighter in the gloom ahead of me still, and of _her_ will my last thoughts be on this side of Eternity.

And now! ... Ellis, my boy! my boy! ... One last "Good-by!" ...

G.o.d bless you, and may your life be a long and happy one.

I am, believe me, to the last.

_Your old friend_, _Gilbert Carlton_.

A smothered sob burst from Ellis, and the letter fluttered from his grasp to the floor. Gallagher, still watching him curiously, repeated his former query:

"What's up, Sargint? Hope nothin's-"

Ellis interrupted him huskily, but not unkindly.

"Get out, Barney!" he said. "Don't talk to me just now! I'll tell yu'-sometime! Beat it! there's a good chap. I just wanta be alone."

And, with one last lingering look of silent, wondering sympathy, the rancher arose and departed slowly into the night.

Overcome with his thoughts, Ellis sat for a long time motionless; then, mechanically groping for the letter again, he reread it. Its simple pathos touched him strangely as the awe-inspiring significance of the long, patient struggle of that faithful old heart-stilled now, alas, forever-began to creep into his dazed brain. He raised his swimming eyes to the portrait of the gentle woman, the memory of whose beauty and kind, sweet personality had been the good angel alike to poor old Major Carlton and himself throughout both their strenuous and sin-tempted lives.

Not in vain had been her early teachings and loving, self-sacrificing patience and forbearance, while he was yet a wilful, headstrong youngster. As, gently, and with a mother's tact, she strove to curb his faults and instil into him-through love, and love alone-truth, honesty, and the main principles of right and wrong.

Not in vain had she entered into her rest and, as an angel in the stead of a beautiful, pure, true-hearted woman, interceded for the souls of both men in their tempestuous journey through life.

Long and wistfully the Sergeant gazed into the grave, sweet eyes and proud, clean-cut features-so like his own-and his stern bronzed face became softened and glorified with a wave of ineffable filial devotion too sacred for words.

"Mother!" he whispered brokenly. "Mother! Oh, Mother!" and dropped his head upon his outstretched arms across the table.

But grief-no matter however sincere and true-to the average healthy man is but a transient emotion. Ellis was no dissembler, and sadly though he mourned the loss of his old friend, as the first transports of his sorrow subsided and he became calmer, a slow, dim realization of the tremendous possibilities of his good fortune began to flood his mind.

For to him it meant-freedom, at last, from all the unavoidable, petty, sordid worries connected with the calling that he followed. No more gloomy outlooks upon life in general, or pessimistic forebodings arising from the consciousness of straightened means. Free at last to wander around the earth at will and visit all its beauty spots that he had read or heard about. Free to enjoy all the pleasures of the world that money can command. He was still only a comparatively young man, strong and active far beyond the average.

And, above all, it meant-and the very thought of his presumption stirred him strangely and caused a mighty wave of long-pent-up love to surge through his heart-perhaps also it meant-Mary.

So the joy of life filled him and transfigured his scarred, somber face with a dreamy expression of happiness that lies beyond the power of mere words to adequately describe. No more was the ideal life that he had so often-ah! how often?-pictured longingly to himself in his fits of morbid, spiritless depression, only a monotonous repet.i.tion of hopeless empty dreams. It actually lay now within his power to gratify his heart's desires to their fullest extent.

And then-to the weary man in that humble abode, which was, nevertheless, all that he could call "Home," there appeared a wondrous fantasy which, in its awe-inspiring, majestic grandeur, might have been likened, almost, unto some allegory, or a scene in the Revelation. With mind absolutely, utterly detached from all things material, he sat there motionless, as if in a dream, and it began to float before his far-away eyes like a filmy roseate mirage.

For, in his exalted imagination, it seemed to him that he was standing upon the sh.o.r.es of a great sparkling crystal sea, as it were, in the first faint flush of a radiant dawn. Purple, crimson, saffron-yellow and turquoise, the morning lights stole in succession across the sleeping world, and slowly-slowly, in the mystic East-the flas.h.i.+ng rays of a magnificent sunrise began to creep over the rim of the horizon, transforming the gleaming waste of waters into a vast expanse of golden flame.

And, as he gazed entranced at this gorgeous spectacle, suddenly he grew conscious that he was not alone. Turning, he became aware of the figure of a woman kneeling on the ground hard by, with her head bowed in an att.i.tude suggestive of sorrowful abandon. Her form, though the face was turned from him and partly shrouded by her huge ma.s.ses of dark, disordered hair, seemed vaguely familiar; and he found himself engaged in idle speculation as to her ident.i.ty. Something in her posture of dejection instinctively stirred in him a fleeting memory of Thomas Moore's beautiful poem. "Paradise and the Peri," the poor Peri humbly, yet vainly, craving admission into Paradise. Vaguely and disconnectedly, some of the lines wandered into his mind:

One morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood, disconsolate;

The glorious Angel who was keeping The Gates of Light beheld her weeping;

Awhile he contemplated the woman with a great pity in his heart, and was about to draw nigh and comfort her when all at once his impulse was checked and he remained spellbound in mute amazement.

For, seemingly from _nowhere_, a transcendentally glorious voice-_that sounded not of this earth_-suddenly arose in the stillness around them.

Pure, peaceful, unutterably sweet, far beyond this world and its works, the golden notes floated forth into the hush of the opal dawn, uplifting the hearts of the listeners on the wings of sound-verily to Heaven's gate:

"O Rest in the Lord! wait patiently for Him!

And He shall give thee-He shall give thee- O He shall give thee thy heart's desire!"

The eternal solace of the weary and heavy-laden, the Divine appeal to all poor struggling souls rose and fell, finally melting away into nothingness, save where the deep, cloister-like silence flung back a faint far echo. Beside the bowed female figure there became visible a vague s.h.i.+mmering _something_ which, almost imperceptibly, began to a.s.sume the outlines of a human form. Disturbed strangely at what he knew not, the wayward, reckless soul of Ellis Benton became filled with a great and reverential awe.

He sank to his knees and bowed his head. When, fearfully, he dared to raise it again, his eyes beheld _one_ clad in s.h.i.+ning raiment, about whom there clung a halo of radiance. Slowly the glistening form turned and a cry of wonderment and adoration burst from his lips. For, lo!-it seemed to him that _once more_ he looked upon the face of his long-dead love-Eileen Regan.

Motionless, she gazed down upon him long and earnestly, with gravely sweet, kind eyes; then, stooping low, she embraced the sorrowing woman tenderly, and kissed her on the brow, bidding her be of good cheer and calling her "Sister." Presently, drawing herself erect, she uplifted her heavenly voice again, and there rang forth-as he well remembered her singing it in _life_, one never-to-be-forgotten Christmas morn, in that little Catholic Church in far-off Johannesburg-"In Excelsis Gloria":

"Glory to G.o.d in the Highest!

And on earth peace, goodwill towards men!"

She bent and kissed the woman a last farewell. Then, raising her arms in holy benediction, she slowly became a _shade_, as before, unfolding her wings and floating away diaphonously into the silvery mists of the early morn.

The kneeling woman then arose and, turning, came towards him swiftly. A tall, stately figure of a woman, with a kind, strong, sweet face; the tumbled ma.s.ses of her glossy, raven-hued hair all floating and rippling about her regal shoulders and white columnar throat.

Near she drew to him-nearer. She stretched out her bare rounded arms to him with a little happy loving cry as she smiled into his eyes, and he saw the splendor and glory of the world in hers.

While, far away in his ears, rang the echo of his own voice calling upon a woman's name-wonderingly, pa.s.sionately-"Mary!... Mary!... Mary!..."

The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky, The deer to the wholesome wold, And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid As it was in the days of old.

The heart of a man to the heart of a maid- Light of my tents, be fleet!

Morning waits at the end of the world; And the world is all at our feet.

-_Kipling_

"Wake up, Johnny, yu' old fool!... don't yu' start in to lazy on me or I'll-"

Here Ellis shrewdly pinched his mount's withers, causing that animal to flatten his ears and nip playfully at his rider's knee.

"Look out, doggone it! If _I_ happen to get a bit absent-minded at times, yu' needn't follow suit!" he exclaimed sharply, as he jerked his horse away from the edge of a small, but wicked muskeg, around which the trail that led to the Trainors' ranch circled. "I sure don't want to be getting in the soup like Jim McCloud did that time, on _this_ day of all days. I'll hand yu' over to Mary, begad!... she'll teach yu' to 'soldier,' yu' old sucker!"

It was a glorious suns.h.i.+ny afternoon, and the light cool breeze sent the occasional little tufts of fleecy-white clouds scudding across the turquoise-blue sky, and waved and brushed the surface of the long prairie gra.s.s as if with an invisible hand. To the gait of his horse Ellis whistled to himself-happily-half dreamily, as if he voiced some inner thought-an old, long-forgotten air, presently breaking into its words:

"Sae kind, kind and gentle it she, Kind is my Mary; The tender blossom on the tree, Cannot compare wi' Mary."

Duly arriving at the ranch, he dropped his lines, and leisurely sauntering up to the familiar dwelling where he perceived the owner and his wife sitting in the shade of the veranda, he hailed them cheerily.