The Girl from Arizona Part 30

Undine dear, I think I will go out for a little while."

The bright-faced, rosy-cheeked girl who entered the room at this moment was a very different being from the pale, timid, little waif of four months earlier. She had grown at least two inches, and the clothes which had hung loosely about her in her first days at the ranch had now become a tight fit. At Miss Jessie's request she smiled, and came hurrying to the side of her kind friend.

"It's a glorious day," she said; "it makes one happy just to be alive.

I've had such a wonderful ride. I went as far as the railroad, and saw the West Bound pa.s.s; it was two hours late. I'll get your warm coat and some wraps and we'll sit behind the playhouse. You won't feel the wind there, and it will be heavenly."

"Undine," said Miss Graham suddenly, when the two were comfortably established in one of their favorite nooks; the invalid in her chair, and her companion on a rug spread on the ground; "where did you learn the song I heard you singing when you came in from your ride just now?"

"I forget which it was," said Undine, looking puzzled. "Oh, yes, I remember--'A Highland Laddie Lived over the Lea.' I don't know where I learned it--isn't it one of Jim's songs?"

"I don't think so, dear, but we can ask him. I never heard you sing it before."

Something of the old, troubled, far-away look crept into Undine's face.

"I don't know how I remember things," she said, slowly; "they just come into my head sometimes. Now that I think of it, I don't believe I have ever heard Jim sing that song. I must have heard it somewhere, though."

Miss Graham said nothing, and there was a short pause, which Undine broke.

"You and Mrs. Graham don't like to have me talk about the things I can't remember," she said, a little wistfully.

"Only because we don't want you to distress yourself and try to force your brain. I have always told you I was sure the memory would come back some day."

"I think it is coming soon," said Undine, softly. "I keep having dreams.

I dreamt of my mother last night."

There was a quiver in the girl's voice, and Miss Jessie leaned forward and laid a kind hand on her shoulder.

"Tell me about it, dear," she said, gently.

Undine drew a deep breath that was almost a sob.

"It was a beautiful dream," she said. "My mother and I were in a dear little room, all furnished in pink and white. I don't know where it was, but it seemed quite familiar in the dream. I was unhappy about something, and my mother kissed me, and put her arms round me. She had such a dear, beautiful face. Oh, Miss Jessie, do you suppose my poor mother was killed in that dreadful earthquake?"

"My dear little girl, we cannot possibly know that; we must have patience. Have you had other dreams?"

"Yes. The other night I dreamt I was playing with a boy in a swamp.

There was a black woman in the dream, too; she scolded us, but I wasn't a bit afraid of her. Do you think perhaps they were people I used to know?"

"I don't know, dear; it may be possible, but you mustn't let these things worry you. You are happy here with us, are you not?"

"Happy!" cried the girl, with sparkling eyes, "I never expected to be so happy anywhere. As long as I live I shall never forget all you and Mr.

and Mrs. Graham have done for me, but I can't help wanting to remember."

"Of course you can't; that is quite natural. We all want you to remember, too, but we must have patience. The more you strain your brain, the longer it may take for the memory to come back. You have been a great comfort to us since Marjorie went away; I told her so in my last letter."

"I am so glad," said Undine, smiling. "I promised Marjorie I would try, but of course I knew I could never take her place. Oh, Miss Jessie, you said I might read Marjorie's last letter. It came when I was out, you know, and I didn't hear you read it to Mrs. Graham."

"So I did, I am glad you reminded me, for I had forgotten all about it.

It was written from the place in Virginia where she has been spending the holidays, and tells all about their Christmas festivities. It is in the right-hand drawer of my desk--you may read it whenever you like."

Undine glanced at the book in Miss Graham's lap.

"If you don't want me for anything, and are going to stay here for a while, I think I will go and read it now," she said; "I love Marjorie's letters."

"Very well, dear; I want to finish this book before we begin the one we are going to read together. It won't take me more than fifteen minutes."

Undine scrambled to her feet.

"All right," she said; "I'll be back before that. Oh, Miss Jessie, isn't the air glorious to-day? It makes me feel so happy and excited; just as if something were going to happen."

Undine tripped away to the house, and Miss Graham, as she opened her book, heard the clear young voice singing:

"'A Highland laddie lives over the lea; A laddie both n.o.ble and gallant and free.'"

The song died away in the distance, and Miss Jessie became absorbed in her story. It was very still, and not a sound came to disturb her until she had turned the last page. Then she closed the book, and looked up in surprise.

"How long Undine takes to read that letter!" she said to herself, in some surprise.

Another ten minutes slipped away, but Miss Jessie was accustomed to waiting patiently--she had done little else for the past eight years.

"Susie must have kept the child for something," she decided, and settled comfortably back in her chair to await Undine's return.

But it was not like her sister-in-law to detain Undine without sending some explanation; neither was it like the girl to remain away so long.

At the end of another ten minutes Miss Jessie began to be a little curious.

"What can be the matter?" she said uneasily, her thoughts reverting to a possible accident to her brother, who had gone to try some new horses that afternoon. "I think I'll wheel myself back to the house and find out."

But at that moment she caught sight of her sister-in-law coming towards her across the lawn. Mrs. Graham was looking cheerful and serene as usual, and carried some sewing in her hand.

"I thought I would come and join you," she said, as soon as she was within speaking distance. "It's much too lovely to stay in doors.

Where's Undine?"

"I don't know," said Miss Jessie, "I thought she was with you. She went in half an hour ago, to read Marjorie's last letter, which I had forgotten to show her, and hasn't come back since."

"I haven't seen her," said Mrs. Graham, looking a little annoyed, "but then I have been in the kitchen with Juanita. Undine ought not to go off like this, and leave you alone so long."

"She never did such a thing before," said Miss Jessie, anxiously. "I wish you would go and see where she is, Susie."

"Oh, she is all right, I am sure," Mrs. Graham maintained, but she turned back towards the house, nevertheless, for it had also occurred to her that it was unlike Undine to neglect her duty.

There was not a sound to be heard when Mrs. Graham reached the house and although she called Undine several times, she received no answer.

"Where can the child be?" she said, beginning to feel a little frightened, and she hurried to Undine's room. The door was open, and her first impression was that the room was empty. She was turning away again, more and more puzzled by the girl's mysterious disappearance, when her eye was caught by a heap of something white lying on the floor by the window, and in another moment she had hurried forward, with an exclamation of dismay, and was bending over Undine, who lay, white and unconscious on the floor, with Marjorie's letter clasped convulsively in her hand.

When Undine opened her eyes she was lying on her bed, and Mrs. Graham was bathing her forehead, while the faithful Juanita plied a palm-leaf fan and held a bottle of smelling-salts to her nose. For a moment the girl gazed about her in a kind of dull bewilderment; then a look of recollection came into her eyes, and she started up, with a sharp cry.

"I'm not dead, I'm not dead! Oh, tell them it isn't true! I'm not; I'm not!"

"Lie down, dear," said Mrs. Graham in a tone of gentle authority. "Of course you are not dead; you fainted, that is all. You are better now, and if you lie still for a few minutes you will be all right."