The Award of Justice Part 39

To Lyle it revealed much more, for to her astonished gaze there was brought back, with life-like distinctness and realism, the face of her dreams; the one which she had seen bending tenderly over her since her earliest recollection, and which had seemed so often to comfort her in the days of her childish griefs when she had sobbed herself to sleep.

Suddenly, Miss Gladden saw the face in the gla.s.s grow deathly white, and Lyle, quickly turning toward her friend, exclaimed:

"I see it now! That is my mother's face that I have seen in my dreams!

And I have seen it living some time, somewhere, but not here. These people are not my parents; I am no child of theirs. Oh, Leslie, tell me, is this true?"

Very gently Miss Gladden soothed the excited girl, telling her that while her friends knew nothing as yet, for a certainty, regarding her parentage, they felt that she, in her early life, had had a home and surroundings far different from those she knew here, and that they hoped ere long, with her help, to arrive at the whole truth.

"But how did I ever come to live here with these people?" inquired Lyle, a new fear dawning in her eyes, "do you suppose they were hired to take me?"

"No, never," said Miss Gladden, "as nearly as we can judge, you must have been stolen."

"And do you think my own parents are now living?" she asked.

So far as she was able to do so, Miss Gladden explained the situation, as Jack had told it to her, making no reference, however, to what he had said regarding the possibility of Lyle's friends coming to the mountains, where they would be likely to recognize her. Of this, Miss Gladden herself understood so little, she thought best not to allude to it now.

"But why has Jack never told me of this, and of my mother? He must have known her," said Lyle.

"You must remember, dear, that he had no proof that any such relation really existed; as I understood him, he with others, supposed that this child was not living, but he was struck with the resemblance between you and the mother of this child, and the relations.h.i.+p occurred to him at first as the merest possibility, but grew almost to a certainty, as the resemblance between you increased; and yet, you can see that under the circ.u.mstances, while you were under the control and in the power of these people, it would not be best to say anything until he had some proof as to your ident.i.ty."

"I see," Lyle answered, thoughtfully, "but now that I remember her as my mother, do you suppose that he would talk with me about her, or help me to find my true relatives?"

"I hardly know how to answer you," said Miss Gladden slowly, "there is some mystery about it all, dear, that I do not understand; he might perhaps talk more freely with you, but with me he appeared willing to say very little regarding your mother, or your friends. Still, he gave me a hint, so vague and shadowy I scarcely understood it, but to the effect that he thought there might, before long, be an opportunity for a meeting between you and those whom he believed to be your friends."

"Well," said Lyle, after a pause, "Jack is a true friend to me, he knows what is best, and I can afford to wait with even such a possibility to look forward to. I will not wait in idleness either, I shall try to find some clue, some evidence as to who I really am, and something tells me I will succeed." Then she added tenderly, "Do you know, I believe, whoever my mother may have been, Jack must have loved her."

"She certainly was very dear to him," replied Miss Gladden.

They talked till far into the morning hours, and as they finally separated for the night, Lyle approached her friend, and throwing her arms about her neck, she exclaimed, almost in tears:

"Oh, Leslie, you can never know how glad I am that you have shown me this, and shown it to me to-night! I have felt so disgraced, so degraded by the life here, it seemed as if I were a part of it all, a part of my own hateful surroundings but now, I know I am not; now,"

she continued, lifting her head proudly and raising her arms slowly with a beautiful gesture, "they can fetter me no longer! The chains that have held me so long and so cruelly are already bursting; even now, I can rise above them; soon, I shall be free!"

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

Do coming events cast their shadows before? Did the silently-waving pinions of the angel who "troubled the waters" give any hint of his beneficent approach? However that may be, certain it is that on the morning of the day in which the hitherto untroubled depths of Lyle's womanly nature were to be stirred by the mightiest of influences, there came to her a prescience, thrilling and vibrating through her whole being, that this day was to be the crisis, the turning point of her life. On that day, she was to meet one whose influence upon her own life she felt would be far greater than that of any human being she could recall.

Lyle was not in love. As yet, she knew nothing of what love might be, but she possessed rare depth of feeling. In her lonely, secluded life, she had known few emotions, but those few were deep and lasting; and when, a few months before, she had incidentally seen the photograph of Morton Rutherford,--only one among many, all unknown to her,--it had left an impression upon her heart and brain, never to be effaced.

His was no ordinary face; it would attract the most casual observer, and to one gifted with Lyle's wonderful insight and perception, and possessing her fine susceptibilities, there would be revealed such rare strength and beauty of mind and character combined, that, once seen, it might not be easily forgotten.

To Lyle, in her isolation, it seemed a glimpse of a kindred soul, and she had often wondered what the living face itself might be, and what acquaintance and friends.h.i.+p with such a soul might mean. She had looked forward to his coming to the camp with mingled pleasure and dread. She thoroughly understood the position which she held in the estimation of the younger Mr. Rutherford; would his brother regard her with the same half pitying, half patronizing admiration? Would her narrow, restricted life seem so small and poor to him, with his superior attainments, that he would altogether ignore her? Or would he be able, like Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden, to overlook her hateful and hated environment, and help her rise above it?

These were the questions which for the past few weeks had perplexed and troubled her; but the revelation which had come to her on the previous night had changed the whole current of her thought. What matter now, how mean or debasing her surroundings, since no taint from them could attach itself to her? What matter if her life had been cramped and restricted, since she was soon to rise above it into the life for which she had been created? Perhaps her natural sphere was not, after all, so unlike that in which her friends moved, to which even he was accustomed, the stranger, whose coming she now antic.i.p.ated with a strange, unaccountable thrill of expectation. Would he, with that wonderful power which she felt he possessed, to elevate or to crush the souls with whom he came in contact, would he recognize her true sphere, as her other friends had done, or would he be blinded by her surroundings?

She could not rest; she rose and looked forth upon the glorious dawn of the new day, and was impressed as never before, with the beauty of the vision which met her eyes. To her, it seemed like the dawning of a new epoch in her life; nay, more than that, like the dawning of a new life itself.

Impatient of restraint, she left the house, and went out into the morning fresh from the hand of the Creator, as yet undefiled by contact with human life. Hastily climbing a series of rocky ledges, she reached a broad plateau, and looked about her. The life which she had so hated and despised seemed suddenly to have dropped forever out of sight, and she was conscious only of a new beauty, a new glory surrounding her.

The mountains, blus.h.i.+ng in the first rosy light, lifted their gleaming, glory-crowned spires heavenward; the cascades chanted in thunderous, yet rhythmic tones, their unceasing anthem of praise, their snow-white spray ascending skyward, like clouds of incense, while the little flowers, clinging to rock and ledge and mountain-side, turned their sweet faces upward in silent adoration.

The place seemed pervaded by a spirit of universal adoration and praise, and instinctively, Lyle bowed her head in silent wors.h.i.+p; and as she did so, there came to her, as though revealed by the lightning's flash, the vision of her mother kneeling beside her, in those dim days so long ago, clasping her tiny hands within her own, and teaching her baby lips to lisp the words of prayer.

For a long time she knelt in that temple made without hands, till mountain and valley were bathed in glorious sunlight; and when at last, she descended the rocky footpath, she felt, as she looked forth upon the new life opening before her, no fear, no shrinking, but strong to go forward and meet her destiny, whatever it might be.

All were impressed that morning by Lyle's manner, the added dignity of bearing, the new expression that looked forth from her soulful eyes, though none but Miss Gladden understood the cause.

At the breakfast table, the final plans were made for the reception of the guests to arrive that day. Word had been received that they were already in Silver City, and would come out on the noon train. Houston had telegraphed to the Y for the best team there to be in readiness to bring them up to the camp, and an hour or so before noon, he and Van Dorn were to take two horses and ride to the Y to meet them, and accompany them on their ride up the canyon. A late dinner was to be served upon their arrival, when the two ladies would be present, as Lyle no longer acted in the capacity of waiter, Miss Gladden having some time before insisted that she should preside at the table, and the blus.h.i.+ng Miss Bixby, after much painstaking effort, having been finally educated up to the point of performing that ceremony very creditably.

"Everard," said Miss Gladden after breakfast, as Houston stopped for his customary chat with her before starting out on his daily routine, "did you observe Lyle this morning? I never saw her look so lovely;"

adding playfully, "I wonder you did not fall in love with her, she is far more beautiful than I."

"Allow me to be judge," he replied, "though I will admit that I think she grows more beautiful every day. But as to falling in love with her, I doubt if I would have done that even had I not met you. From the first she has seemed to me unaccountably like a sister; I cannot explain why, unless it was because of that child-like, almost appealing manner she had at that time. She has none of it now, however, she is developing very rapidly into a n.o.ble womanhood, and yet I still have the same feeling toward her, and I think she regards me as a brother."

"That is true," said Miss Gladden, "she cares for you more than for any of the others, but only, as you say, as a brother. Her heart does not seem to be very susceptible."

"She may be none the less susceptible," Houston replied, "but she realizes her position here, and she is far too proud spirited to carry her heart upon her sleeve."

Miss Gladden then related to Houston the events oi the preceding night, and Lyle's sudden recollection of her own mother. He was much interested.

"I am more than glad," he replied, "doubtless the memory of her early childhood will gradually come back to her, and we may be able to ascertain her true parentage. I hope so, at least, for I believe Maverick to be an out and out scoundrel, capable of any villainy, and I would like to see him brought to justice."

The room set apart for the expected guests, as well as the dining-room, was decorated with wild flowers and trailing vines, and in this pleasant employment, and the preparation of a few dainty dishes for the table, the forenoon pa.s.sed swiftly.

The noon train had scarcely come to a stop at the little station at the Y, when Ned Rutherford was seen rus.h.i.+ng impetuously from the car, his camera case as usual in one hand, at sight of which the two young men waiting on the platform burst into a hearty laugh.

"There he is," said Houston, "the same old Ned!"

"The very same old boy!" added Van Dorn, as they hastened to meet him.

"Hullo, Everard!" cried Ned, jumping upon the platform, "I say, but it seems mighty good to see you again! How are you, Van Dorn?"

"How are you, Ned?" said Van Dorn, extending his hand, "we wouldn't have known you if it hadn't been for that camera box of yours!"

"That so?" answered Ned, good-naturedly, "well, I always considered it indispensable, but I didn't suppose my ident.i.ty would be lost without it."

Meanwhile, Houston had hastened to meet the elder brother, and it could readily be seen that they were more than ordinary friends.

"Everard, old fellow!" he exclaimed, in response to Houston's greeting, "this is the greatest pleasure I've had in many a day. I never dreamed that the Houston of whom Ned wrote such glowing accounts was my old friend."

"I used to think sometimes," said Houston, "when Ned was writing you, that I would like to send you some reminder of old times, a college pa.s.sword or signal that you would understand; but at that time, I didn't know Ned very well, and of course I was anxious to conceal my ident.i.ty here."

"That was right," said the elder Rutherford, with a comical glance at his brother, "Ned is rather injudicious, he belongs to that unfortunate cla.s.s of people, with the best of intentions, who usually succeed in doing as much mischief as others with the worst."

"Right you are there," said Ned, "I'm always putting my foot in it one way or another; I wouldn't advise anybody to make a confidant of me, I'd give them away sure. I say, Everard," he continued, while his brother and Van Dorn exchanged cordial greetings, "how are you getting on, and how is the Buncombe-Boomerang combination?"