CHAPTER XXIII.
FOUND--IN THE HOUSE OF THE MOOR.
John hears at last.
A native servant brings him a note, and it can be set down as positivethat the young Chicagoan eagerly breaks the seal.
It is from Ben Taleb. He writes a fair English hand, for he is a man ofmuch education.
"Come again this night at eleven. Tell Mustapha to be at the wall whereyou departed from my house, at that hour, and to rap upon the largestone with the handle of his knife, giving the signal of Mahomet's tomb.
"Ben Taleb, of Morocco."
So John's heart thrills with expectation. This looks friendly; he may benear the end of his journey. It is still dark and uncertain ahead, foreven when he has found his mother, a reconciliation between theseseparated parents seems impossible. The past has too much of bitternessin it to be easily put aside.
His first thought is of Mustapha, and he casts around for the Arab, whomhe last saw close by the door of the hotel.
The dusky courier is near by, engaged in a little game with severalcompanion guides, for the Arab as a rule loves gaming, and will riskeverything but his horse.
When Mustapha catches his eye he comes up hastily, understanding thereis something in the wind.
"We are to go again into the old town."
"When, monsieur?"
"This night. See! Ben Taleb has sent me a message."
The Arab looks at the paper stolidly; it might as well be Sanscrit tohim.
"Read it, monsieur."
So John complies, and his guide takes in all that is said. He nods hishead to show that he understands.
"This time I, too, will change my appearance, and they will not knowthat it is Mustapha Cadi who walks through the lanes of old Al Jezirawith an unbeliever at his side."
"A bright thought, Mustapha. When shall we leave the hotel?"
"Say half past nine, meet me here. I will have all arranged. The_burnoose_ is safe."
John prepares for business.
He remembers that on the previous occasion he had need of weapons--thatthey came very near an encounter with the natives--and hence armshimself.
Before quitting the hotel he feels it incumbent upon himself to see LadyRuth, and tell her where he is going. Nothing like beginning early, youknow. She has already commenced to control his destiny.
Lady Ruth has a headache, and is bathing her brow with cologne in theprivacy of her little boudoir parlor, but readily consents to see theyoung man.
"You'll think me a fright, John, with my hair brushed back likethis"--John stops this in a thrice as any ardent lover might, takingadvantage of the professor's absence, and the fact that Aunt Gwen hasgone back in the second room for another chair--"but once in a greatwhile I have a headache that will only succumb to a certain process. Youwill excuse me?"
"Indeed, I sympathize with you; have had the same splitting headachemyself more than a few times. I wouldn't have intruded--"
"You know it's no intrusion, John," with reproach in her eyes.
"Kind of you to say so, my dear, but to the point I have heard from BenTaleb."
"Oh! your face tells me it is good news."
"I am to visit him at ten."
"To-night?"
"Yes."
"But John, the danger. You yourself told me it was no little thing toenter old Al Jezira in the night. Those narrow lanes, with strangefigures here and there, eying one fiercely; the houses that threaten totopple over on one's head; all these things make it a risky place towander in even during the daytime. After dark it must be awful."
So John describes the plan of action, and interests his affianced, whoasks more questions about his former visit, not forgetting the marvelousbeauty of the Moor's daughter, for she is human.
Time flies under such circumstances, and hence it is John suddenlyexclaims:
"I declare, it's after nine o'clock."
"And my headache is gone."
At this both laugh.
"You must be a wizard, John, to charm it away so completely," shedeclares.
"I trust I shall always be as successful in the days to come," breathesJohn, and this of course causes a blush to sweep over the fair maid'sface.
He hurries to his room to prepare for what is before him. Deep in hisheart arises a prayer for success. Again that feeling of anticipationsweeps over him. Remembering former disappointments, he endeavors tosubdue his hopes and to prepare for another set back, but this does notprevent him at times from indulging in dreams of happiness.
It is just half-past nine when he reaches the door of the hotel.
Mustapha Cadi is there, looking confident and bearing a small bundle.Again, in a dark corner, John assumes an Arab covering, while hisconductor proceeds to alter his own looks so that any whom they meet maynot know who the tall Arab is.
So they tread the lanes of the hill-side town. Just as on the previousnight, they meet Arabs, Moors, Kabyles, Jews and negroes. The silence islike that of the tomb, and yet the interior of more than one housedoubtless presents a spectacle gay enough to please any lover of lightand color, of lovely women, of rippling fountains, sweet flowers thatload the air with their incense, and all the accessories a Moorish courtcan devise, for these people, while keeping the exterior of theirdwellings plain, spend money lavishly upon the interior.
Now they are at the wall, and Mustapha gives the signal clearly; indeed,John fancies the hilt of the knife meets the stone with more force thanis necessary, or else his ears deceive him.
The signal is heard, is answered, and in another minute they are insidethe wall.
As they walk along behind their guide John whispers to the Arab:
"On my word, I believe the fellow neglected to quite secure the door inthe wall," to which remark Mustapha replies in low tones:
"Presumably he knows his business, monsieur; anyhow, it concerns us notat all."
Which John takes as a gentle reminder that these Arabs are veryparticular not to interfere with things that belong to another.
He says no more.
They reach the central room, opening upon the court where plashes thefountain.
The guide stops.
Upon the scented air comes the notes of a musical instrument, a mandolin,and the chords are peculiarly sad and yet so very full of music.
Then a voice breaks forth--such singing John has heard only in hisdreams--it is a voice of wondrous power, sympathetic and sweet, a voicethat would haunt a man forever.
John knows no Moorish maidens can sing that song, and his heart gives awild throb as the conviction is suddenly forced upon him that at last,after these weary years of waiting, after his search over half theworld, he is now listening to the voice that hushed his infantile cries,and fell upon his ears like a benison.
No wonder, then, he stands there as if made of stone--stands and drinksin the sweet volume of sound as it floods that Moorish court, until thelast note dies away as might the carol of a bird at even-tide.
Then he swallows a sob, and braces himself for the coming ordeal.Something behind reaches his ear. He is positive he catches a deep groanas of despair; perhaps it comes from some cage, where this Moorishjudge has an enemy in confinement.
He is not given a chance to speculate upon the subject. His guidetouches his arm and points. John discovers that his presence has alreadybeen made known to the Moor.
He is expected to come forward. Under the circumstances, the young manis in no condition for delay. That song, that heavenly voice, has gonestraight to his heart, and he longs to look upon the face of the sweetsinger.
So he advances, not slowly and with any show of dignity, but in theeager way that does credit to his heart.
He sees a figure in black, seated near the old Moor, and instantly hiseyes are glued upon that face.
Then his heart tells him he now looks upon the face of the mother whohas been lost to him so long.
Does she know? has she received his note, or is her presence here simplyat the desire of her frie
nd, the old Moor? She does not show any intenseexcitement as he approaches, and this tends to make him believe she hasbeen kept in ignorance of the truth.
The Mohammedan doctor and his lovely daughter watch his advance withdeep interest, for they are human, and take pleasure in a good deeddone. The Koran commends it just as thoroughly as does our Bible. At thesame time slaves are in waiting near by, armed with deadly cimeters, andshould it prove that John has deceived them, that the Sister does notgreet him with love, but fear, because he bears the name of Craig, asignal from Ben Taleb will be the signing of his death warrant.
John fastens his eyes hungrily upon the face he now sees. He standsdistant only a yard or so, and as yet has not uttered a syllable, onlywaiting to see if his burning gaze, his looks of eager love anddevotion, will have a miraculous effect on his parent.
As he stands thus mutely before her, she becomes aware of his presencefor the first time. She looks up at his face, the casual glance becomesimmediately a stare; her cheeks grow pale as death; it is evident thatsomething has aroused memories of the past, and they flood her soul.
Slowly the woman arises. Her figure is slight, but there is a nobilityabout it. Purity is written upon her brow, in her eyes shines the lightof faith that dares to look the whole world in the face. And before aword is spoken John Craig knows his mother has been dreadfully wrongedin the past, suffering in silence because of some noble motive.
She has gained her feet, and now advances, walking like one in a dream,her hands outstretched. No wonder; it is like a phantasy, this seeing aloved face of the past in the home of a Moor in Algiers. She must indeedthink it an illusion.
Now her hand touches John's face. Imagine the intense thrill that sweepsover his frame at the impact. Soul speaks to soul, heart answers heart.
The woman begins to tremble. The look of frightened wonder upon her facegives way to one of astonishment.
"It is no illusion! Alive! Oh, what does this mean? Where am I? Who areyou?"
Thus the broken sentences fell from her lips, as though she hardly knowswhat she says.
John can only think of one reply, and as he puts out his hands, hiswhole heart is contained in the whispered words:
"Oh, my mother!"
This seems to break the spell. In another instant she has eagerlyclasped her arms around his neck.
"Heaven be praised; my prayer is answered. My child has sought me out."
It is the magic power of love.
John's face tells his great joy. Words are denied them for some littletime, but with brimming eyes they gaze into each other's face.
"Oh! mother, I have searched for you in many lands. For years I havelonged to see you, to tell you that my heart believed in you. By thekindness of Heaven, that time has come."
"And you, my own boy, you believe me innocent, worthy of your love,though the world called me guilty?" she murmurs.
"Yes, because of the great love I bear you, I would believe it againstall. Oh! my mother, how barren my life has been, without yourcompanionship, your love. Many, many nights I have wept bitter tears ofanguish to think of you somewhere upon the face of the earth, wanderingalone, because of circumstantial evidence."
Again from the darkness beyond the court, comes that deep, terriblegroan. The old Moor turns his head as though he does not understand it;but the tableau in front is too dramatic to be lost.
"I began to believe I should have to quit this world of woes withoutseeing you, for though I do not wish to disturb your happiness, my poorboy, you must see from my looks that I am fading like a flower in thefall; that the monster, consumption, is sapping my life. Still, I maylive some years to enjoy your love; be of good cheer. How strange to seeyou a man grown, you whom I left almost a babe. And, John, you soclosely resemble, as I knew him then, your father, my poor deceivedDuncan, whom Heaven knows I have never ceased to remember with love; whowronged me terribly, but the circumstances were fearfully against me.Heaven has purified my heart by suffering."
"I can stand this no longer!" cries a voice, and a man rushes into view,advancing until he stands before them. "My eyes have been opened to thetruth. In bitter tears I repent the sorrowful past. Blanche, behold yourhusband, unworthy to kiss the hem of your garment."
CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLUSION.
John has been so amazed at the sight of this newcomer that he can notmove a hand or foot. He immediately recognizes his father, of course,but the fact of Duncan Craig being present in this place is whattemporarily paralyzes him.
The coming of the other creates a decided sensation; it can be easilyunderstood. Upon the unfortunate wife and mother the effect is mostmarked.
Many years have passed since last she saw this man, her husband.Circumstances caused her to incur his apparently righteous anger, tobe sent out into the world as one unworthy to bear his name.
All this she has borne meekly, doing good wherever Heaven chose to sendher. The terrible infliction has tried her soul, and she has beenpurified as by fire.
After this life suffering she now finds this husband at her feet. Hisproud spirit is broken, and he seeks forgiveness.
She has long since learned to put away the ordinary small feelings thatactuate so many of her sex; but being still human, she cannot but feelgratified at the vindication that has come.
John holds his breath and awaits the outcome of this strange event. Heremembers the sudden rage of the old Moor on the previous occasion, whenhe told him he was a Craig, and fully expects to hear something from thesame source again.
Nor is he mistaken.
Ben Taleb has been listening intently, and not a word of what haspassed escapes his ear. He catches the confession of the man who humbleshimself, and his eyes blaze.
Almost immediately he claps his hands, and half a dozen armed retainersmake their appearance, springing from some unknown quarter.
"You have dared enter my house. You, a Craig, who brought years ofsuffering upon the woman we revere. It is well. Allah has sent you here.Mohammed is satisfied to leave you to our hands. I will be merciful, asthe hyena is merciful. Instead of having you torn to pieces I will orderyou shot. You will learn that a Moor knows how to avenge the wrongs ofone for whom he entertains feelings of gratitude."
His words are cutting and cruel, and John, expecting every second to seethe slaves make their savage assault upon his father, holds himself inreadiness to jump forward and assist him.
The situation is indeed critical.
It looks as though a very trifling matter would precipitate a riot, inwhich deadly weapons must be used.
Duncan Craig has made a terrible mistake in his past. He has been knownas a cold, proud man, though much of this has been assumed in order todeceive himself. Yet no one ever called him a coward.
He knows that bodily danger menaces him, and as a soldier his spirit isat once in arms.
Springing to his feet, he faces the old Moor.
His arms are folded. Upon his face can be seen a defiant light.
"I have entered your house, Ben Taleb, unarmed, bent upon a mission oflove. To humble myself. You may have the power to crush me. I have donewhat I believed to be right just as soon as the light of truth enteredmy soul. The consequences may be disastrous, but I am ready to meetthem."
The old Moor is struck by his manner, but, still moved by the passionthat swept over him at mention of that name, he does not allow his angerto abate a particle.
"Because of the past you shall suffer. You have ruined the life of thiswoman, whose only fault was in loving you, a base, heartless dog. Sayyour prayers, wretched man, for you have but a few minutes to live."
He faces his judge calmly. An American can meet death with even thestoicism so characteristic of the Moslem race.
The terrible sentence has awakened one who has seemed to be in a stupor.Sister Magdalen arouses herself. The old feelings within her heart arenot dead; they have only been slumbering all this while.
She steps between Duncan Craig and the Moor, her fa
ce shining with a newlight. She raises her hand as if to ward off the impending blow, and hervoice is sweet and gentle.
"Ali Ben Taleb, great is thy house and the blessings of Allah hang overit. I understand the motive that prompts you to thus undertake to avengewhat you think are my wrongs. But you must halt. I demand a hearing."
"Speak on; my ears are open to your voice. You saved my child from thepestilence that stalketh at noon day, and the heart of Ben Taleb hasbeen full of gratitude ever since," replies the dignified native doctor.
"First, then, hear that, though I thought I should die when I no longerhad a home in my husband's house, my eyes were speedily opened, and Isaw that Heaven was using me as an instrument to bring about good. So Ilearned to be patient. Confident of my innocence, I could calmly awaitthe time when the truth would be made known. That hour, Ali Ben Taleb,has come.
"The second point, which I particularly desire to impress upon yourmind, is this: You are pleased to say that I was instrumental insnatching your beloved child from the jaws of death. Be it so. Consider,then, what would have been the result had this misfortune never happenedto me, if I had always remained in my husband's home."
"Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet, but I fear I should havelost my child," declares the Moor.
"You see the ways of Allah are past finding out. I have long sincelearned to trust myself to the guidance of a power stronger than humanarms.
"You talk of avenging my wrongs, but time has already done that. Theresult you see here in the actions of my husband. If I forgive himfreely and fully, what right have you or any other person to hate himand declare vengeance? Does your Koran teach that; did Mohammedpropagate such doctrines?"
The old Moor hangs his head.
"It is not for Ben Taleb to go against the will of the one who saved hischild. Take, then, his miserable life, oh, remarkable woman; and as forme, I have learned a lesson."
Again he claps his hands, and the armed retainers disappear. Peace oncemore smiles upon the scene.
Sister Magdalen turns to her husband, and they converse in low tones,yet with an earnestness that leaves no room for doubt of their sincerity.
Presently John sees his father motion, and he joins them.
"My boy, your mother has forgiven me. Heaven knows I do not merit suchaction, but she is an earthly angel. And I want to ask you if you canalso forgive me, because through my actions you have all these yearsbeen deprived of a mother's love?"
His contrite manner, his dejected attitude--these things would go fartoward influencing John even were his heart hardened toward theunfortunate author of all this misery, which it is not.
"Ah! father, with such an example before me how could I entertain hardfeelings? The past is gone. Why should we live in it. Better that welook forward toward the future and endeavor to find happiness. You knowHeaven works in a mysterious way, and much good has come to the world atlarge through our suffering."
"Then you do forgive, my boy?"
"There is nothing to forgive, sir. Let us strive to forget the past andhope that years of happiness may be before us."
"Ah! John, you have her spirit," sighs his father, as he wrings hisboy's hand.
Sister Magdalen smiles sweetly and sadly, for she knows full well thattheir time together in this world will be short. She does not wish tocast a damper on their present joy, however, and hence says nothing.
The Moor has been greatly impressed by all this. He learns a lesson inlife, for, as a rule, the female element in oriental circles has verylittle to do with the events that occur from day to day, and neverengage in any of the discussions upon the leading questions of the hour.
Later on the little party leave the house of Ali Ben Taleb. Theirpassage through the streets is accomplished in safety, for the Moor seesto it that all are well disguised.
John never learns the truth about the coming of his father. He hasreason to believe that Mustapha Cadi must have entered into somearrangement of the older Craig, after hearing his story, although thestolid face of the Arab never betrays his secret.
When Lady Ruth learns that the end has come, and John's quest is at anend, she rejoices with him.
Another day in Algiers.
Then a steamer will be due, upon which they can take passage for France,and later on reach America.
Duncan Craig is very subdued, and intensely devoted to his recoveredwife. They have long conversations alone, and all that has passed in theyears of their separation is told. Craig opens his heart and reveals hisinmost feelings. He tells how he suffered in spirit while showing aproud face to the world, and finally how he came to learn the truth.
John becomes interested in the courtship of Sir Lionel, who, finding hisardent affection returned, pursues his game with such intensity ofpurpose that he wins.
Seeing them come out of a church that afternoon, Doctor Chicago isinfluenced to enter, and to his particular gratification learns that aceremony has just been performed that effectually removes both of themfrom his track.
When he tells this to Lady Ruth that lively young lady is greatlypleased, and laughs again and again. Thus all obstacles crumble beforethe path of true love. Their skies are sunny and bright with hope.
Duncan Craig's wife has not become united with an order in bonds thatare indissoluble. She changes her garb, but her heart has become sowedded to the work that the probabilities are she will finish her lifein the sweet service of charity; and Craig, filled with penitence andnewly awakened love, will be only too glad to follow her everywhere,seconding by his money, her efforts.
John means to fling his shingle to the breeze, and start upon the roadof life as a full-fledged doctor. His German education will push himforward, for their system is more thorough than the American, and fewthere are who come out at twenty-three.
He will be separated from Miss Caprice a few months, but she is comingover to see the World's Fair, and remain. Thus Chicago gains thoughEngland loses.
With their departure from Algiers on the steamer, we may as well bidthem adieu. On board they meet Sir Lionel and his wife, of whom he is atpresent very proud, but they keep by themselves, for each has a secretthat is not for the other to know.
THE END.
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