CHAPTER XXVII.
IT SEEMED LIKE SOME BEAUTIFUL DREAM WHEN SHEENTERED THE GATES IN THE CHILLY SUNSET OF AWINDY OCTOBER DAY.
"Thank Heaven! the crisis, The danger is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last-- The fever called 'Living' Is conquered at last!"
The day came, late in September, when the autumn leaves were turning redand gold, that Dainty Chase opened wide her startled blue eyes upon theworld again.
She had closed them consciously over six weeks ago in the gloomy dungeonbeneath Ellsworth Castle, when, pressing to her desperate lips thebitter draught of death, she had bidden the cruel world farewell.
In the long weeks of illness and delirium that followed, many things hadcome and gone without her knowledge; and now, when consciousnessreturned again; there was a dazed look in the beautiful pansy-blue eyesthat stared wide and dark out of her wan and wasted face, with the blueveins wandering plainly beneath the transparent skin.
"Where am I?" she gasped, faintly, putting her weak little hands up toher head, and wondering in a bewildered way what made her hair feel sothin and short and curly, like that of a year-old infant.
The fact was, that Sairy Ann Peters had been compelled to cut off allof Dainty's golden tresses to stay the progress of the devastatingfever, and she had anticipated with womanly grief the sadness of thehour when the girl should realize her cruel loss.
She came quickly to the bedside and took the little trembling hands inher toil-hardened but motherly ones, and said, tenderly:
"So you've come to yourself at last, dearie, and beginning to worrit thefust thing because all your beautiful long curly hair is cut off! Butnever mind, chile; it will grow again as pretty as ever all over inshiny leetle rings like a babby's; and I was jest obleeged to crop itoff to save your sweet life, you had the fever so miserable bad."
"Where am I?" Dainty repeated, in amazement, her gaze lingeringconfidently on the homely but gentle face before her and receiving inreturn the smiling reply:
"Where you are is soon told, honey; you're in a logging-camp, where myhusband and nine grown sons are running a saw-mill till the first ofOctober, way up in the mountings, where we hain't seen but two facesbesides our own sence we come here the first day of April. It's 'boutsix weeks sence my husband found you at day-break, lying sick and ravingon the bank of the trout stream where he was fishing for our breakfast,and brought you home with him. I gin you my best bed, and been nussin'you all this while like you was my own darter, which I never had one,but al'ays hankered arter one; but the good Lord He sent me sons everytime till I've nine on 'em; and I'm past fifty, and no more hopes of adarter now, though there'll be darters-in-law a-plenty, no doubt, whenmy boys begin to mate. Well, now you know all you ast me about, chile,and I'm jest as cur'us over you. What mought your name be, and whereverdid you drap from, anyway?"
"I--I don't know," Dainty faltered, weakly, with a bewildered air.
"Sho! you don't know? Ah, well! I see how 'tis. Your memory ain't comeback clear yet; and no wonder, after sech a hard sickness as you've comethrough! Never mind, dearie, it'll all come back arter awhile. Are youhungry now?"
"Thirsty!" faltered the girl; and like a flash the past came back toher, conjured up by that single word, presenting to her mind the dark,noisome cell where she had suffered so terribly with the cruel, burningfever and the terrible thirst, until longing for death, she had pressedthe bitter poison to her parched lips.
Then all was blank till now, and she wondered feebly how she had escapeddeath, and still more, how she had been released from her terriblecaptivity, and been brought here to this remote mountain camp.
The woman gave her a draught of clear, cold, sparkling water thatcleared her faculties immensely, and closing her heavy-lidded eyesagain, she began to recall the past from the dim shades of memory.
It was a bitter task, and the hot tears flashed beneath her lashes asshe remembered that Sheila Kelly had told her that Love, her husband,was wounded and dying.
The next morning she said wistfully to the kind woman:
"I am beginning to remember things now. Do you know a place calledEllsworth?"
"I've heerd tell of it; it's quite seven miles from here."
"Seven miles! Then how on earth did I ever get to this place?" wonderedDainty, but she only said, reticently:
"A lady named Chase is there, and I am her daughter. I was very ill, andI can not remember how I came to be out in the woods; but I would likefor you to send word to my mother."
"I will see about it," replied Mrs. Peters; and after consulting herfamily, she reported that all were too busy to go to Ellsworth now, butthey intended to break up camp the first of October, to return to theirwinter home at the station, and if she could be patient till then, sheshould have a bed in the wagon, and they could easily leave her atEllsworth on their way past.
With this she was forced to be content, having no claim on her simpleentertainers, save that of humanity; but the week, after all, slippedaway quite fast in the delicious languor of returning health; and oneday the Peters family loaded up three long wagons with their householdgoods, and set forth for home, having made Dainty and the mother quitecomfortable on a mattress for the long journey over the worst stretch ofrocky mountain road known in that section of a very rough country.
It seemed like some beautiful dream at last, when, after kindlyfarewells from her homely benefactors, she stood at the gates ofEllsworth in the chilly sunset of a windy October day, walking slowlyand weakly along the graveled paths, past fading summer flowers andflaunting autumn blooms, on her way to the great house, her heartleaping with joy at the thought of her mother's kiss of welcome, andsinking with pain in the fear that she should find her darling dead andburied, according to Sheila's story.