CHAPTER XIX.
The doctor set his wife down at their own gate, then drove on to makethe call she had spoken of. Serena stood still for a moment, sendingglances up and down the street, debating in her own mind whether sheshould or should not run over to Charlton's office, less than a squareaway, and say a few words that were burning on the tip of her tongue.
The question was decided for her by seeing him approaching.
"Good-evening, sir," she said, nodding and smiling; "won't you come in?"
He returned her greeting and accepted her invitation, asking, "Have yousome news for me? I seem to read tidings in your face."
"Yes; I have found out to a certainty that you were wrong and I wasright in that little talk we had the other day."
"Pardon me, but I am not quite sure that I understand to what yourefer, my good lady," he said, lightly, following her into the porch,where she gave him a chair, taking another near at hand herself.
"I am just from Lakeside," she said, giving him a mischievous look andsmile. "I've had a private interview with my friend Miriam, and learnedfrom her own lips that she utterly detested Bangs on account of hisodious character, and that her emotion on hearing of his awful end wasbecause he had gone directly from an interview with her, in which herfirm refusal to accept the offer of his hand had put him in a toweringpassion, and that had led to his murder of Barney Nolan, for which, asyou know, he was lynched. So poor, dear Miriam felt at the time ofhearing what had happened that she was partly responsible for theirdeaths, and she can't even yet quite put aside the feeling."
Charlton's countenance had grown radiant.
"A thousand thanks, my dear Mrs. Jasper!" he exclaimed; "you havelifted a load from my mind, for, as I see you have already guessed, Iam deeply in love with Miss Miriam. Yet, after all," he sighed, a lookof doubt and uncertainty taking the place of the other, "I may fail towin the prize I so covet, for I am quite sensible that it is far beyondmy deserts."
"I entirely agree with you, sir," she said, teasingly. "I know of noone (now in the market) whom I consider worthy of Miriam Heath. She is,in my estimation, a diamond of the first water."
"She is, indeed! And you would discourage me from seeking to win her?"
"No; there's nothing like trying. As far as I know she does not dislikeyou, and who can tell but you might in time, by clever courting, teachher to really care for you? I will say for your consolation that Ithink you as worthy of her as any other unmarried man of myacquaintance."
"Thank you," he said. "You found them all well at Lakeside?"
"Yes, and rejoicing over a piece of good fortune--the recovery of thestolen notes; though where they came from is a profound secret."
She enjoyed his surprise and pleasure, and in answer to a question ortwo, went on to give him the whole story, adding that he was to be sentfor to attend to the business arrangements for them.
"I'll go over at once and save them the trouble of sending," he said,rising. "Good-evening."
"Good-evening," she responded. "Come back and report, won't you?"
He only gave her a bow and smile, then hastened on his way.
The Lakeside family were just about to sit down to tea when he arrived,and, of course, he was invited to partake with them.
They had their business talk at the table.
On the conclusion of the meal all repaired to the porch except Miriam,who, leaving the entertainment of the guest to her grandmother andRonald, stole quietly out into the garden, and busied herself among herflowers.
She was training a vine over a trellis, when a familiar step on thewalk startled her slightly and deepened the color on her cheek; then avoice close at her side said, "Let me help you. My superior height willgive me an advantage in training those taller tendrils."
"Thank you," she answered, accepting his offer, but without lookinground, and feeling her cheeks grow hot, for she knew instinctively whatwas coming.
He praised the beauty of the vine; then presently they turned from itto the flower-beds, and for a little made conversation about them.
Neither felt a very deep interest in the subject-matter of discourse atthat moment; there was shortly a pause in the stream of talk, andsummoning up all his courage, Warren began upon the theme that laynearest his heart.
He told Miriam frankly that he loved her and wanted to make her hiswife; that she had attracted him strongly from the first hour of theiracquaintance, and more and more as he learned to know her better andperceived the beauty of her character, till months ago she had becomeso dear to his heart that he felt he should be able to find little joyin life without her sweet companionship; that he had refrained fromspeaking till now only because of his straitened circumstances, butlately he had learned that an investment had turned out remarkablywell, and as he had now a constantly increasing and lucrative practice,he felt justified in making her an offer of his heart and hand, havinga reasonable prospect of being able to support her in comfort.
He paused, but receiving no reply, went on again.
"I feel, dear Miss Miriam, that your worth is far beyond my deserts,but I am sure no one could love you better or be more earnestly andsincerely determined to do all in his power to make your life brightand happy."
Still no reply.
"I fear I have not won your heart," he sighed, "but, dear girl, can younot give me a little hope that I may be able to do so in time?"
"I thank you sincerely for your generous offer, Captain Charlton,"she responded at last, speaking in low, tremulous tones, andwith half-averted face, "but--but--I think I cannot be spared fromhome; I think grandmother, the children, Ronald, all need me.Grandmother is too old to bear alone the burden of household caresand responsibilities, and Ronald is not yet strong enough to takecharge of the farm."
"I see it all," he said; "your noble, self-sacrificing spirit increasesmy esteem and affection, and I would not ask you to forsake a duty formy sake; but can you not give me some hope for the future?"
"I do not approve of long engagements," she said, evasively.
"We need not settle the question of its length at present," he said, inardent tones, taking her hand and raising it to his lips; "only let meknow that you care for me even a very little, and I shall not despairof winning you at last."
She did not refuse or withdraw the hand he had taken, nor did sherepulse him when he ventured upon more pronounced demonstrations oflove.
He drew her hand within his arm and led her to an arbor at the foot ofthe garden.
There time passed very swiftly, and the moon was already shining in thesky when they returned to the house with faces radiant with happiness,and the captain announced to Mrs. Heath and Ronald, whom they foundalone together on the porch, that he and Miriam were plighted to eachother for life.
"But I am not going to leave you yet, dear grandmother," Miriam said,in low, tremulous tones, as the old lady folded her to her heart andwept over her in mingled joy and grief.
"Oh, my darling, I don't know what we could ever do without you!" shesobbed, holding the dear girl in a close embrace; "and yet I could notfor a moment think of standing in the way of your happiness, dear,unselfish child that you are, and have always been!"
"Surely there's no need of either alternative," said Ronald, jocosely;"we've only to take Warren in and make him a permanent addition to thefamily--a valuable one he will be, too. So, young folks, I give you myblessing, and gracefully accept the situation."
"Certainly it would be a delightful arrangement for us, Ronald," theold lady said. "We are willing to share our dear Miriam with you,Captain Charlton, if you will not rob us of her altogether."
"There will be plenty of time to talk it over, grandma, before anythingneed be settled," Miriam said, with a blush and a shy glance up intoher lover's face.
"Yes," he said, with a proud, fond look at her; "I appreciate yourkindness, dear madam, and could not find it in my heart to make so meana return as to rob you of your rightful share in one who
owes much ofher lovely womanhood to your tender care and training."
CHAPTER XX.
Miriam woke the next morning with a lighter and happier heart than shehad carried in her bosom for years; ever since the tide to the cruelWar of the Rebellion had swept away the father upon whom she had beenwont to lean from early infancy, her young shoulders had borne burdensall too heavy for their strength.
But now one as strong and even dearer than that loved and honoredparent had come forward with gallant, tender entreaties that she wouldlet him bear them for her; he would do it from love, and he was no lesscapable than willing. What a rest it would be to lean on his strengthand look to him for guidance and support in the trials and duties oflife!
She was up earlier than her wont, though it was a rare occurrence,indeed, when the sun found her in her bed, and came down-stairs with aglad song upon her lips.
Sandy met her in the lower hall. "Gude-mornin', Miss Mirry," he said,and she noticed a slight tremble in his voice, a distressed look on hisface.
It stopped the song on her lips, and set her heart to beating fasterwith a nameless fear (such dreadful, dreadful things had happened oflate).
"Sandy, what is wrong?" she asked, catching at the balustrade forsupport.
"Naething to fright ye, Miss Mirry," he said, reassuringly, "but comewi' me and I'll show ye," leading the way out through the porch intothe garden. "I hae but just found her, the poor, lone creature, and Iwant you to tell me what shall be done wi' her."
"Who, Sandy? Of whom are you talking?" queried Miriam, following, andwith difficulty keeping close to him, as he passed with hurried stepsaround the house and down the path that led to the barn-yard and thefields beyond.
"I'll show ye in a minute, Miss Mirry. I dinna ken who she is, an' Imuch doot if ye're ony wiser than mysel' on that point, but she's in anawfu' condition, and canna be lang for this warld."
In another moment he had halted beside a haystack, at the foot of whichlay a woman clothed in filthy rags, pale, dishevelled, unconscious,lying with closed eyes, but moaning feebly as if in pain.
"Poor, poor creature!" cried Miriam, leaning over her and dropping hottears on the pallid face. "Oh, Sandy, who can she be? and what hasbrought her to this? She doesn't look like a gypsy, I don't think sheis a foreigner; but, oh, what she must have suffered! What can we dofor her?"
"Not much, I fear, my dear young leddy," answered McAllister. "She'sdyin', I think, and I dinna ken whether she could be moved withouthastenin' the end that canna be far off."
"The doctor must be sent for at once," said Miriam, with decision.
"I've started Peter off for him already," returned McAllister, "and nadoot he'll be here afore lang."
"Could we give her anything in the mean time?--food or medicine?"Miriam asked. "She looks famished."
"She does that, Miss Mirry."
"Stay by her and I'll run to the house for some warm milk," Miriamsaid, speeding away as she spoke.
She was back again almost immediately, and Sandy raising the poorwoman's head, she poured a little of the milk into her mouth. Afterseveral trials they succeeded in getting her to swallow a few drops,but she did not open her eyes.
By that time Dr. Jasper had arrived, and Captain Charlton with him.They looked at the wanderer, then exchanged grave, significant glances.
"Do you know her?" asked Miriam, and both answered, "It is BelindaHimes."
"Is it possible!" exclaimed Miriam, in low, moved tones. "Doctor, can,you do nothing for her?"
"Nothing!" he sighed; "she is dying--will live but a few minutes, Ithink."
"Dying," cried Miriam, deeply moved; "and, oh, I fear she is not readyfor heaven!"
Dropping on her knees by the side of the poor creature, and putting herlips to her ear, "Look to Jesus," she said, in pitying accents; "He isyour only hope in this hour, but 'He is able to save to the uttermost;'look and live! Oh, cry to Him at once, 'Lord, save or I perish!'"
"I think she does not hear you," the doctor said, with emotion.
"Hark! she seems to be trying to speak," said Mrs. Heath, who hadjoined the little group a moment before.
At that a deep silence fell on them, each ear being intent to catch thewords that presently came slowly, gaspingly, from the pale lips alreadystiffening in death--"The--way--of--trans--gressors--is hard."
Her eyes remained closed; she did not seem conscious of their presenceor of anything; two or three long-drawn breaths followed the words, andthen all was still.
A moment's solemn silence, broken by the voice of Sandy McAllister inlow, moved tones, "Poor, misguided creature! she has, na doot, provedthe truth o' those words o' inspiration in the sad experience o' thepast few weeks. She's been in hiding frae the law, and has died o' wantan' misery."
They gave her decent burial, paying the expense out of the money leftby her husband. They knew of no relative or friend to summon to herobsequies, and there was no one to drop a tear of affection upon herlonely grave. She and Phelim O'Rourke were reaping in another worldwhat they had sown in this.
Deprived of their leader, and fearing to share his fate at the hands ofthose who had dealt out stern justice to him, the rest of the band hadfled the vicinity, and peace, quietness, and security reigned all upand down Wild River Valley; but the story of its tragedy will lingerfor years, if not forever, in the minds of its inhabitants--a tragedythat was largely the result of a disregard on the part of thelaw-makers of the State of that law of God--"Whoso sheddeth man'sblood, by man shall his blood be shed."
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TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
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Obvious printer's errors have been silently corrected.
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