The boat—bound for the Indies—was well out
On the gulf before they found and lifted
Him; nor knew they of the tragedy upon
The dock, or that he was hunted as a
Murderer. They finding on his person
The token of a craft which they reveréd,
They cared for him and left him safely in
An island city of the Southern Sea.
There his brother craftsmen gathering round him,
Nursing—raised him—raised him as one from the
Dead. From the “Valley of the Shadows” brought
Him forth to perfect health and vigor; but
Alas! the silken cord that erstwhile bound
Him to the past, was broken! Memory
Was gone! Nor, with active mind and clear, could
He recall the past, tell his name or whence
He came. He strove to lift the veil and look
Beyond the wall of night that intervened.
That cruel blow had caused a lesion of
The brain—a lapse of memory complete.
As the wire that bears the hidden current
Broken, swaying in the breeze, connecting
Sends a gleam across the night, so at times
Bright gleams of memory, almost taking
Shape, would light his way; then leaving him in
Greater darkness, would as quickly fly away.
On the gulf before they found and lifted
Him; nor knew they of the tragedy upon
The dock, or that he was hunted as a
Murderer. They finding on his person
The token of a craft which they reveréd,
They cared for him and left him safely in
An island city of the Southern Sea.
There his brother craftsmen gathering round him,
Nursing—raised him—raised him as one from the
Dead. From the “Valley of the Shadows” brought
Him forth to perfect health and vigor; but
Alas! the silken cord that erstwhile bound
Him to the past, was broken! Memory
Was gone! Nor, with active mind and clear, could
He recall the past, tell his name or whence
He came. He strove to lift the veil and look
Beyond the wall of night that intervened.
That cruel blow had caused a lesion of
The brain—a lapse of memory complete.
As the wire that bears the hidden current
Broken, swaying in the breeze, connecting
Sends a gleam across the night, so at times
Bright gleams of memory, almost taking
Shape, would light his way; then leaving him in
Greater darkness, would as quickly fly away.
Gradually came before his sight, as
Dimly seen thro’ nebulae, the outlines
Of a form and face came from the misty
Moonlight of the past. At last, came back to
Him, that picture which had made the deepest
Imprint on his mind—his Lola, as he
Saw her standing by her father’s side. But
When was this? And where? And who was she?
By exercise of all the strength of his
Great will, her name once more came back to him,
And then her father’s; then the city where
They lived; and then it was borne in on him
That she was his betrothed; that he had gone
To that fair isle to make a home for her.
Now, having gained the wherewithal, he could
Go and bring her. With this thought, the flame of
Love rekindled blazed anew, as clearly
He remembered those six happy days of
Love with her—what she said, his promises;
And now—his hot blood leaping to the call,
He hastened on his way. Arriving there,
He straightway went to find her father’s
Home and claim her as he swore to do the
Day he left her there. The Colonel met him
With a scornful smile and said: “So you have
Come? You may have her, if you wish for such
As she.” Breaking forth in rage, he cried—with
Oaths—“Go! Find her at the hospital”—he
Told the driver where—“Go! Find her with her
Child of shame; they are good enough for you!
I care not if she fills a harlot’s grave.”
Dimly seen thro’ nebulae, the outlines
Of a form and face came from the misty
Moonlight of the past. At last, came back to
Him, that picture which had made the deepest
Imprint on his mind—his Lola, as he
Saw her standing by her father’s side. But
When was this? And where? And who was she?
By exercise of all the strength of his
Great will, her name once more came back to him,
And then her father’s; then the city where
They lived; and then it was borne in on him
That she was his betrothed; that he had gone
To that fair isle to make a home for her.
Now, having gained the wherewithal, he could
Go and bring her. With this thought, the flame of
Love rekindled blazed anew, as clearly
He remembered those six happy days of
Love with her—what she said, his promises;
And now—his hot blood leaping to the call,
He hastened on his way. Arriving there,
He straightway went to find her father’s
Home and claim her as he swore to do the
Day he left her there. The Colonel met him
With a scornful smile and said: “So you have
Come? You may have her, if you wish for such
As she.” Breaking forth in rage, he cried—with
Oaths—“Go! Find her at the hospital”—he
Told the driver where—“Go! Find her with her
Child of shame; they are good enough for you!
I care not if she fills a harlot’s grave.”
THE STOLEN CHILD.
Cedric, smitten almost to the death, bade
The driver go with haste. He found her and
She, smiling, whispered low: “My Cedric, you
Have come to meet me. Is this heaven?” then placed
The baby hand in his and falling back,
She was indeed in heaven. Cedric, tearless,
For a moment stood as one struck dumb; then
Took the baby in his arms. She too young
To understand, or lisp her mother’s name
Or his, as though instinctively, she threw
Her rosy arms about his neck and kissed
Him. Then confiding, laid her golden curls
Upon his breast. The nurses, thinking him
A base deserter, hoping he at least
Would own the child, and seeing him caress
It—placed tenderly its costly wrappings
’Round, and quickly packed its ample clothing,
Gave it him. He kissed the marble brow and
Turning to the one who had the right to
Speak for all, he inquired about the rites
And ceremonies of her faith, “Were they
Performed?” “Yes,” the matron said, “the good priest
Has been often by her side, left her just
Before you came; the one who married her.”
The driver go with haste. He found her and
She, smiling, whispered low: “My Cedric, you
Have come to meet me. Is this heaven?” then placed
The baby hand in his and falling back,
She was indeed in heaven. Cedric, tearless,
For a moment stood as one struck dumb; then
Took the baby in his arms. She too young
To understand, or lisp her mother’s name
Or his, as though instinctively, she threw
Her rosy arms about his neck and kissed
Him. Then confiding, laid her golden curls
Upon his breast. The nurses, thinking him
A base deserter, hoping he at least
Would own the child, and seeing him caress
It—placed tenderly its costly wrappings
’Round, and quickly packed its ample clothing,
Gave it him. He kissed the marble brow and
Turning to the one who had the right to
Speak for all, he inquired about the rites
And ceremonies of her faith, “Were they
Performed?” “Yes,” the matron said, “the good priest
Has been often by her side, left her just
Before you came; the one who married her.”
He paced the hall and pondered, mystified.
What he had heard and seen had set his brain
Awhirl. So she was married! Then to whom?
Her husband might at any moment come
And claim his child—claim Lola’s child—he quick
Resolved to take the babe and give his life
To her—to care for her, for Lola’s sake;
For she was Lola’s child, if not his own.
They must not know that he was not the one
Who married her. He must not see the priest.
He, in his frenzy, cast aside all thought
Of right or wrong—decided he would
Steal—yea, lie or even die before that
One who had deserted her should have her
Child. He gave them gold, and speaking calmly,
(Falsely, too, as he supposed) said: “Tell them
Her husband ordered that her last resting
Place shall be a mausoleum grand, and
To him you gave the child—the one to whom
It rightfully belongs; say that he loved
Her to the last, and would that he had died;
That she had mourned for him—not he for her.”
Then, with a farewell kiss, he took the child,
Believing he was stealing it away.
The baby clung to him and was content.
What he had heard and seen had set his brain
Awhirl. So she was married! Then to whom?
Her husband might at any moment come
And claim his child—claim Lola’s child—he quick
Resolved to take the babe and give his life
To her—to care for her, for Lola’s sake;
For she was Lola’s child, if not his own.
They must not know that he was not the one
Who married her. He must not see the priest.
He, in his frenzy, cast aside all thought
Of right or wrong—decided he would
Steal—yea, lie or even die before that
One who had deserted her should have her
Child. He gave them gold, and speaking calmly,
(Falsely, too, as he supposed) said: “Tell them
Her husband ordered that her last resting
Place shall be a mausoleum grand, and
To him you gave the child—the one to whom
It rightfully belongs; say that he loved
Her to the last, and would that he had died;
That she had mourned for him—not he for her.”
Then, with a farewell kiss, he took the child,
Believing he was stealing it away.
The baby clung to him and was content.
But for the child his life had ended there;
Then there had been no tie to bind, no one
To love. The past almost a blank, and in
The future no alluring hope, he fain
Had snap’d the slender thread of life, to be
With Lola evermore. Or, had he been
One of the weaker kind, complaining at
His fate, he had perchance by slower
Process, ended all in low debauchery.
Then there had been no tie to bind, no one
To love. The past almost a blank, and in
The future no alluring hope, he fain
Had snap’d the slender thread of life, to be
With Lola evermore. Or, had he been
One of the weaker kind, complaining at
His fate, he had perchance by slower
Process, ended all in low debauchery.
THE WANDERERS.
But those confiding arms, that baby kiss
Upon his cheek, sent thro’ the aisles of his
Great, generous heart, a flood of newborn
Love. To part with her would be indeed to
Part with life itself. He, thinking quickly
And as quickly acting, fled—took the first
Ship that sailed, nor asking whither it was
Bound; rejoicing when it cleared the dock and
Seaward turned its prow. When learning that its
Course lay to the north, he changed to one bound
For the South Sea Isles.
Upon his cheek, sent thro’ the aisles of his
Great, generous heart, a flood of newborn
Love. To part with her would be indeed to
Part with life itself. He, thinking quickly
And as quickly acting, fled—took the first
Ship that sailed, nor asking whither it was
Bound; rejoicing when it cleared the dock and
Seaward turned its prow. When learning that its
Course lay to the north, he changed to one bound
For the South Sea Isles.
Sailing to and fro,
The changing seasons passed while they upon
The ocean cruised like wanderers without
A guide; he thinking only of his charge,
And where he, in her tender years, the
Best could care for her. Willing hands he found—
Mothers’ hands outstretched to take the cherub
From his arms. She, growing, Cedric saw in
Her the image of her mother—the same
Blue eyes and wavy hair which fell about
Her shoulders; high arching brows and lashes
Long but darker shaded, like his own. He
Had thought to call her Lola; but when the
Stranger asked her name, she lisping answered,
“Zola,” he left it so.
The changing seasons passed while they upon
The ocean cruised like wanderers without
A guide; he thinking only of his charge,
And where he, in her tender years, the
Best could care for her. Willing hands he found—
Mothers’ hands outstretched to take the cherub
From his arms. She, growing, Cedric saw in
Her the image of her mother—the same
Blue eyes and wavy hair which fell about
Her shoulders; high arching brows and lashes
Long but darker shaded, like his own. He
Had thought to call her Lola; but when the
Stranger asked her name, she lisping answered,
“Zola,” he left it so.
Tho’ long before
The day when ox-carts plowed their dusty way
Across the plains to reach the sun land slopes,
The Eldorado of the west, he knew
Of that fair land beside the sunset sea—
That sunny, southern California.
There they would go, where none would ever hear
The story of the stolen, nameless child;
And where the recreant father ne’er would
Come. There would he seek and find in sylvan
Quietude, the sweetest spot where Mother
Nature reigns and in her lap, among the
Birds and flowers, would she be reared in spotless
Purity—educated—taught by him—
As wise men of the olden times received
Their learning from the doctors of the law.
The day when ox-carts plowed their dusty way
Across the plains to reach the sun land slopes,
The Eldorado of the west, he knew
Of that fair land beside the sunset sea—
That sunny, southern California.
There they would go, where none would ever hear
The story of the stolen, nameless child;
And where the recreant father ne’er would
Come. There would he seek and find in sylvan
Quietude, the sweetest spot where Mother
Nature reigns and in her lap, among the
Birds and flowers, would she be reared in spotless
Purity—educated—taught by him—
As wise men of the olden times received
Their learning from the doctors of the law.
Thitherward they sailed; and thro’ the rocky
Gateways of the cape—tho’ roughly shaken—
Safely passed; then to the north thro’ calmer
Waters, borne by Etesian winds, oft-times
Delayed by traffic at the ports, or on
A glassy sea becalmed. And once their ship
Was overtaken by an ugly craft
That bore the pirates’ flag; and every man
On board was called to arms; then they were
Well nigh overwhelmed and taken. Cedric,
Joining with the crew, fought valiantly. Thro’
The thickest of the battle, Zola clung
To him. When they would have taken her below,
She cried, “Let me stay wiz papa; if he
Go, zen me go too.” Cedric answered, “Be
It so; we live or die together.” But
Their fears were turned to great rejoicing when
A shot crashed thro’ the pirate craft. They sailed
Away and left it sinking in the deep.
Gateways of the cape—tho’ roughly shaken—
Safely passed; then to the north thro’ calmer
Waters, borne by Etesian winds, oft-times
Delayed by traffic at the ports, or on
A glassy sea becalmed. And once their ship
Was overtaken by an ugly craft
That bore the pirates’ flag; and every man
On board was called to arms; then they were
Well nigh overwhelmed and taken. Cedric,
Joining with the crew, fought valiantly. Thro’
The thickest of the battle, Zola clung
To him. When they would have taken her below,
She cried, “Let me stay wiz papa; if he
Go, zen me go too.” Cedric answered, “Be
It so; we live or die together.” But
Their fears were turned to great rejoicing when
A shot crashed thro’ the pirate craft. They sailed
Away and left it sinking in the deep.
Cedric, by his bravery and coolness
In the time of danger, won respect and
Friendship of officers and crew. When they
Left him at the mission of the holy
Padres, on the bay of San Diego,
Loaded him with costly presents, forced them
On him, presents for himself and Zola.
The angelic child had won the hearts of all.
In the time of danger, won respect and
Friendship of officers and crew. When they
Left him at the mission of the holy
Padres, on the bay of San Diego,
Loaded him with costly presents, forced them
On him, presents for himself and Zola.
The angelic child had won the hearts of all.
Cedric told the good Franciscan fathers
He was going northward overland, and
Joyously he set about preparing
For the journey, she ever at his side,
With childish prattle, asking, “What is zis?”
“What is zat?” and “What for?” He answering
Cheerfully and evermore explaining—
Teaching her.
He was going northward overland, and
Joyously he set about preparing
For the journey, she ever at his side,
With childish prattle, asking, “What is zis?”
“What is zat?” and “What for?” He answering
Cheerfully and evermore explaining—
Teaching her.
In her sweet companionship
And the certainty of keeping her, he
Laid aside his sadness and became as
Light of heart and happy as herself. At
Last they were all ready to begin their
Wild and free nomadic life—a dozen
Gentle burros, packed with all that they might
Need for months to come; a tent with costly
Furs and rugs, and blankets of bright colors
Bo’t from the Indians, with toys and gaudy
Trinkets; a snow-white pony, showily
Equip’d with Spanish bit and bridle,
Upon its back a basket, sedan-like,
With crimson canopy, lined with softest
Silken draperies, for his “Gypsy queen.”
A princess of the Romany was ne’er
Provided with such luxuries as she.
And the certainty of keeping her, he
Laid aside his sadness and became as
Light of heart and happy as herself. At
Last they were all ready to begin their
Wild and free nomadic life—a dozen
Gentle burros, packed with all that they might
Need for months to come; a tent with costly
Furs and rugs, and blankets of bright colors
Bo’t from the Indians, with toys and gaudy
Trinkets; a snow-white pony, showily
Equip’d with Spanish bit and bridle,
Upon its back a basket, sedan-like,
With crimson canopy, lined with softest
Silken draperies, for his “Gypsy queen.”
A princess of the Romany was ne’er
Provided with such luxuries as she.
In the early morning, long before the
Ringing of the mission bells, Zola and
Her strange retinue set forth; the pony,
With its precious burden, led by Cedric’s
Hand; then came the white milk goats with tinkling
Bells; to the sound, the meek-faced burros, trained
To follow, trailed patiently behind; and
Then a faithful shepherd dog to keep them
All in line. They moved by easy stages,
Stopping often in some shady dell to
Rest and let their burros feed upon the
Grassy slopes. Then would Zola gather flowers,
Or chase the yellow butterflies, with shouts
Of childish glee that echoed thro’ the glen;
To him a sweeter music than the chime
Of great cathedral bells or orchestra.
Ringing of the mission bells, Zola and
Her strange retinue set forth; the pony,
With its precious burden, led by Cedric’s
Hand; then came the white milk goats with tinkling
Bells; to the sound, the meek-faced burros, trained
To follow, trailed patiently behind; and
Then a faithful shepherd dog to keep them
All in line. They moved by easy stages,
Stopping often in some shady dell to
Rest and let their burros feed upon the
Grassy slopes. Then would Zola gather flowers,
Or chase the yellow butterflies, with shouts
Of childish glee that echoed thro’ the glen;
To him a sweeter music than the chime
Of great cathedral bells or orchestra.
IN THE MOUNTAINS.
They exploring, crossed the great Cuyamaca
Range, traversed its broad plateaus, and thro’ the
Silence of its lofty domes and canyons;
Then beyond, where boiling waters gurgling
Flowed thro’ Indian villages. They saw
The waving pines upon the lofty crest
Of Palomar; and wandering, vainly sought
Along its base for passage leading to
Its heights. They often reached an eminence,
And thought they neared the goal, when overhanging
Walls of granite turned them back. At last, by
Persevering, came upon its table-
Lands; and pressing forward found the place he
Long had pictured in his mind—the sheltering
Boughs of giant trees, the gushing fountain,
Level plot of fertile land below, well
Watered by the rivulets that trickled
From the springs. Here he sowed the garden seeds
And grain; and from the chaparral he bro’t
The antlered buck and lesser game. The sweets
The toiling honey bee had stored away,
Drip’d from the boles of sycamore and oak.
They happy lived in Nature’s luxury.
Range, traversed its broad plateaus, and thro’ the
Silence of its lofty domes and canyons;
Then beyond, where boiling waters gurgling
Flowed thro’ Indian villages. They saw
The waving pines upon the lofty crest
Of Palomar; and wandering, vainly sought
Along its base for passage leading to
Its heights. They often reached an eminence,
And thought they neared the goal, when overhanging
Walls of granite turned them back. At last, by
Persevering, came upon its table-
Lands; and pressing forward found the place he
Long had pictured in his mind—the sheltering
Boughs of giant trees, the gushing fountain,
Level plot of fertile land below, well
Watered by the rivulets that trickled
From the springs. Here he sowed the garden seeds
And grain; and from the chaparral he bro’t
The antlered buck and lesser game. The sweets
The toiling honey bee had stored away,
Drip’d from the boles of sycamore and oak.
They happy lived in Nature’s luxury.
Lest in their quietude he might become
Indifferent or wasteful of the time,
He took up an ancient system which they
Faithfully observed thro’ all their years of
Hermitage—eight hours for labor, eight for
Rest, and eight for study and improvement
Of his mind, and teaching Zola.
Indifferent or wasteful of the time,
He took up an ancient system which they
Faithfully observed thro’ all their years of
Hermitage—eight hours for labor, eight for
Rest, and eight for study and improvement
Of his mind, and teaching Zola.
He was
The builder of the hidden cabin; for
Zola it was builded, for her boudoir.
With loving hands, he axe and auger plied,
Without compass, square or trestle board,
But with all the tenderness that ever
Mother bird provided for her nestling.
He building, furnished it with draperies—
Bright Indian blankets, rugs and robes of
Fur, arranging all as beautiful as
Tho’ her mother’s spirit hands had guided
His. Perchance they did. If love be spirit,
And spirit love—or soul—then such as hers
Might overleap the balustrades of
Heaven and find its own; or such unselfish
Soul as his might rise and view the palace
Of the skies. He teaching, opened first the
Book of Nature, and strolled with her among
The flowers and botanized. Then to the rocks;
He told her of the slow formations of
The ages. From the books selected in
The days when she was cradled on the sea,
He, in learning, carried her beyond her
Years.
The builder of the hidden cabin; for
Zola it was builded, for her boudoir.
With loving hands, he axe and auger plied,
Without compass, square or trestle board,
But with all the tenderness that ever
Mother bird provided for her nestling.
He building, furnished it with draperies—
Bright Indian blankets, rugs and robes of
Fur, arranging all as beautiful as
Tho’ her mother’s spirit hands had guided
His. Perchance they did. If love be spirit,
And spirit love—or soul—then such as hers
Might overleap the balustrades of
Heaven and find its own; or such unselfish
Soul as his might rise and view the palace
Of the skies. He teaching, opened first the
Book of Nature, and strolled with her among
The flowers and botanized. Then to the rocks;
He told her of the slow formations of
The ages. From the books selected in
The days when she was cradled on the sea,
He, in learning, carried her beyond her
Years.
“PEG LEG, THE MINER.”
They marked the changing moons until a
Score had glided by and yet had seen no
Other human face save one—and he, an
Honest miner whom they found in sorry
Plight, with broken limb, where he had fallen
From an overhanging ledge. They succored
Him until, returned to strength, he rose with
One limb twisted hopelessly. They made—as
Best they could—a wooden substitute, and
Strap’d with buckskin bandage, he soon learned to
Use it cleverly. Jokingly, he called
Himself “Peg-leg, the miner.” He told them
Of a mine that out upon the desert
He had found, where three large buttes stood side by
Side. Cedric gave him burros from his herd,
And packs, and sent him on his way. He came
Again with well-filled sacks of pellets round
As shot and black as ebony, which proved
To be pure gold. He left it there, and leaving,
Nevermore returned. Miners to this day
In vain have sought that “Peg-leg Mine,” and those
Three buttes; and some have left their bones to bleach
Upon the desert sand. The miner told
Them of a nearer passage, a hidden
Trail, that led downward to the valley. They
Going, tarried there and Cedric sent the
Indians to the mission for supplies.
Score had glided by and yet had seen no
Other human face save one—and he, an
Honest miner whom they found in sorry
Plight, with broken limb, where he had fallen
From an overhanging ledge. They succored
Him until, returned to strength, he rose with
One limb twisted hopelessly. They made—as
Best they could—a wooden substitute, and
Strap’d with buckskin bandage, he soon learned to
Use it cleverly. Jokingly, he called
Himself “Peg-leg, the miner.” He told them
Of a mine that out upon the desert
He had found, where three large buttes stood side by
Side. Cedric gave him burros from his herd,
And packs, and sent him on his way. He came
Again with well-filled sacks of pellets round
As shot and black as ebony, which proved
To be pure gold. He left it there, and leaving,
Nevermore returned. Miners to this day
In vain have sought that “Peg-leg Mine,” and those
Three buttes; and some have left their bones to bleach
Upon the desert sand. The miner told
Them of a nearer passage, a hidden
Trail, that led downward to the valley. They
Going, tarried there and Cedric sent the
Indians to the mission for supplies.
Once a cougar sprang across their path with
Blazing eyes and crouching for a spring; when
Cedric sent a bullet thro’ its brain; and
From its den he took a pair of baby
Mountain lions, made orphans by the shot.
Zola, pitying, took them home and one,
Surviving, grew to monstrous size, became
Obedient to her command, and like
A faithful watch dog, followed her. She
Called him Zimbo. Other pets she had—white
Kids of silken fleece, birds and animals,
But Zimbo was the monarch of them all.
Blazing eyes and crouching for a spring; when
Cedric sent a bullet thro’ its brain; and
From its den he took a pair of baby
Mountain lions, made orphans by the shot.
Zola, pitying, took them home and one,
Surviving, grew to monstrous size, became
Obedient to her command, and like
A faithful watch dog, followed her. She
Called him Zimbo. Other pets she had—white
Kids of silken fleece, birds and animals,
But Zimbo was the monarch of them all.
As the circling years went ’round and she could
See beyond the golden morning of her
Sunny life the ripening noonday coming
On, she longed to see the world beyond her
Mountain home; but named it not to Cedric.
With her years she grew more fearless, wild and
Venturesome. With Zimbo and her rifle,
She scaled the dizzy heights of rock and crag
Where condors built their nests, and knew the
Devious windings of the wild doe’s trail,
Thro’ manzanita groves and chaparral.
In a seat of granite, nature fashioned,
Like a throne, shaded by a giant oak
Upon a summit looking oceanward,
She would sit in dreamy mood and watch the
Silvery line of surf that fringed the far-off
Fading stretch of blue. Once she saw a sail
Appear, then slowly vanish in the offing;
And in the quiet of an early morn,
She heard the low sweet chime of mission bells.
See beyond the golden morning of her
Sunny life the ripening noonday coming
On, she longed to see the world beyond her
Mountain home; but named it not to Cedric.
With her years she grew more fearless, wild and
Venturesome. With Zimbo and her rifle,
She scaled the dizzy heights of rock and crag
Where condors built their nests, and knew the
Devious windings of the wild doe’s trail,
Thro’ manzanita groves and chaparral.
In a seat of granite, nature fashioned,
Like a throne, shaded by a giant oak
Upon a summit looking oceanward,
She would sit in dreamy mood and watch the
Silvery line of surf that fringed the far-off
Fading stretch of blue. Once she saw a sail
Appear, then slowly vanish in the offing;
And in the quiet of an early morn,
She heard the low sweet chime of mission bells.
GILBERT.
To that same port where Cedric landed with
His Zola, others came from distant parts.
Some came to seek their fortunes, others came
To buy and till the soil, some to obey
The inborn instinct of the pioneer.
One family, leaving all behind, had bro’t
A sickly child. Rich and prosperous they
Had been, and with children blessed; but a dread
Contagion had swept them all away save
One; and he, left delicate and frail, the
Idol of their hopes—no other left to
Keep the family name. From those who best could
Speak, they learned there was no hope unless it be
In taking him to that fair, sunny clime.
They hastened there and gave him for his home
A quaint old hacienda of the Dons;
With many leagues of land that lay between
The mountains and the sea. There amid the
Orange groves and vineyards, in the freedom
Of the range where roamed his father’s flocks and
Herds, young Gilbert soon became a gay young
Caballero—grew as strong and fearless
As vaqueros of the range—could twirl the
Lariat or aim the rifle true as they.
His Zola, others came from distant parts.
Some came to seek their fortunes, others came
To buy and till the soil, some to obey
The inborn instinct of the pioneer.
One family, leaving all behind, had bro’t
A sickly child. Rich and prosperous they
Had been, and with children blessed; but a dread
Contagion had swept them all away save
One; and he, left delicate and frail, the
Idol of their hopes—no other left to
Keep the family name. From those who best could
Speak, they learned there was no hope unless it be
In taking him to that fair, sunny clime.
They hastened there and gave him for his home
A quaint old hacienda of the Dons;
With many leagues of land that lay between
The mountains and the sea. There amid the
Orange groves and vineyards, in the freedom
Of the range where roamed his father’s flocks and
Herds, young Gilbert soon became a gay young
Caballero—grew as strong and fearless
As vaqueros of the range—could twirl the
Lariat or aim the rifle true as they.
Sunburned, strong and handsome was Gilbert, in
Showy costume of the Dons, with clanking
Spurs, gold-mounted trappings on his coal-black
Leo, ambling thro’ the massive arches
Of the mission. Señoritas smiled on
Him; he returned their loving glances. This
His parents seeing, feared their Angelo
Blood be mixed with that of darker hue, besought
Him to return to their old home and there
To find a bride of his own faith and kind.
He quieted their fears and said that he
Was wedded to the mesa and the hills.
He loved the mountains more than ever
Bridegroom loved his bride, his heart was free;
But kind and true and dutiful to them,
He promised solemnly that he would do
As they desired before he took a wife;
For ne’er could he repay the love and care
By them bestowed on him, their sacrifice.
Showy costume of the Dons, with clanking
Spurs, gold-mounted trappings on his coal-black
Leo, ambling thro’ the massive arches
Of the mission. Señoritas smiled on
Him; he returned their loving glances. This
His parents seeing, feared their Angelo
Blood be mixed with that of darker hue, besought
Him to return to their old home and there
To find a bride of his own faith and kind.
He quieted their fears and said that he
Was wedded to the mesa and the hills.
He loved the mountains more than ever
Bridegroom loved his bride, his heart was free;
But kind and true and dutiful to them,
He promised solemnly that he would do
As they desired before he took a wife;
For ne’er could he repay the love and care
By them bestowed on him, their sacrifice.
Foremost in all manly sports, he reckless
Rode along the beach where foaming breakers
Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between.
His black horse was known on El Camino
Real—far beyond the shady groves of
Monte Vista. He loved the mountains
And on their bosom laid his head beneath
The starlit skies, companion of their silence,
Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness
Could he thread the winding Indian trail
Across the high Cuyamacas, and often
Had he reached the base of Palomar, and
Longed to see beyond its frowning granite
Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to
The summit—came where a deep-walled canyon held
Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was
Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the
Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted
Brilliancy.
Rode along the beach where foaming breakers
Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between.
His black horse was known on El Camino
Real—far beyond the shady groves of
Monte Vista. He loved the mountains
And on their bosom laid his head beneath
The starlit skies, companion of their silence,
Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness
Could he thread the winding Indian trail
Across the high Cuyamacas, and often
Had he reached the base of Palomar, and
Longed to see beyond its frowning granite
Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to
The summit—came where a deep-walled canyon held
Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was
Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the
Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted
Brilliancy.
ZOLA AND ZIMBO.
Upon a shelving rock near
By, a being of angelic beauty
Stood; posed statue-like, her eyes fix’t on the
Distant sea; one hand spread gracefully
Across her brow, the other holding back
A monster mountain lion that crouching
At her feet, lay watching him; a robe of
Softest fabric, yielding to the breeze, revealed
The ample fulness of her shapely form;
Caught back by strand of sparkling gems, a mass
Of golden hair fell nearly to her feet.
She unconscious of his presence, Gilbert
Stood in speechless adoration, as one
Entranced,—lost in wonderment. Who was this
Personage divine? This apparition
Come to him on that lone mountain side? Was
She some fairy elf come to bewitch him?
Some mountain sprite? Or angel from the throne?
With throbbing temples, arms outstretched, as tho’
He fain would leap the chasm that lay between,
Pressed slowly to its edge. The lion rising
Angrily to spring, she saw him standing
There and vanished from his sight. Then from the
Rocks, he heard her voice call softly, sternly:
“Come, Zimbo, come! Come here!” The spell was
Broken; by those words in his own tongue
He knew that she was of the earth—one like
Himself—and not a native of that land.
By, a being of angelic beauty
Stood; posed statue-like, her eyes fix’t on the
Distant sea; one hand spread gracefully
Across her brow, the other holding back
A monster mountain lion that crouching
At her feet, lay watching him; a robe of
Softest fabric, yielding to the breeze, revealed
The ample fulness of her shapely form;
Caught back by strand of sparkling gems, a mass
Of golden hair fell nearly to her feet.
She unconscious of his presence, Gilbert
Stood in speechless adoration, as one
Entranced,—lost in wonderment. Who was this
Personage divine? This apparition
Come to him on that lone mountain side? Was
She some fairy elf come to bewitch him?
Some mountain sprite? Or angel from the throne?
With throbbing temples, arms outstretched, as tho’
He fain would leap the chasm that lay between,
Pressed slowly to its edge. The lion rising
Angrily to spring, she saw him standing
There and vanished from his sight. Then from the
Rocks, he heard her voice call softly, sternly:
“Come, Zimbo, come! Come here!” The spell was
Broken; by those words in his own tongue
He knew that she was of the earth—one like
Himself—and not a native of that land.
Day after day did he return to that
Same spot and, waiting patient, watch for her;
Once for a moment saw her on the heights,
And again, he saw the eyes of that great
Lion fixed on him and knew that she was
Near. Like knight of old he scaled the highest
Peaks and stood upon the spot her feet had
Pressed. With throbbing pulse and palpitating
Heart he followed in pursuit. The kindly
Rocks revealed no tell-tale foot prints where her
Feet had touched them in her flight. The summer
Wore away and autumn came again; yet
She cunningly evaded him. Growing
Desperate, he traversed all the length and
Breadth of Palomar; at times he heard her
Voice in song, heard her speak to Zimbo, she
Near him; for a precious moment saw her,
But in finesse she more than equalled him.
Same spot and, waiting patient, watch for her;
Once for a moment saw her on the heights,
And again, he saw the eyes of that great
Lion fixed on him and knew that she was
Near. Like knight of old he scaled the highest
Peaks and stood upon the spot her feet had
Pressed. With throbbing pulse and palpitating
Heart he followed in pursuit. The kindly
Rocks revealed no tell-tale foot prints where her
Feet had touched them in her flight. The summer
Wore away and autumn came again; yet
She cunningly evaded him. Growing
Desperate, he traversed all the length and
Breadth of Palomar; at times he heard her
Voice in song, heard her speak to Zimbo, she
Near him; for a precious moment saw her,
But in finesse she more than equalled him.
Gilbert’s parents missed his merry laugh and
Jest; marvelled at his absence; feared that
He was ill and questioned him. He told them
He was hunting in the mountains, but he
Mentioned not the object of his quest; misled
Them by tales of condor’s nest and mountain
Lion he had seen.
Jest; marvelled at his absence; feared that
He was ill and questioned him. He told them
He was hunting in the mountains, but he
Mentioned not the object of his quest; misled
Them by tales of condor’s nest and mountain
Lion he had seen.
Likewise was Cedric
Troubled by the change he saw in Zola.
She loved Gilbert—loved him wildly, madly.
She had watched him when he knew it not, and
Knew that he loved her; but frightened at the
Thought, was minded to keep the secret
Locked in her own breast and fly from him; so
Timidly she asked if some day they might
Go away, and sailing o’er the ocean
Find another home. Cedric answered, “Yes,
Some day.” He had long expected this and
Unknown to her, had in a way, prepared
Her for the change. From that lone mountain top
Letters had been sent to shops and houses
Of the east, and yearly in return had
Come by Indian carriers from the port
Clothing for himself and Zola, made to
Measure sent, and always in their study
Hours they dressed resplendently, that she might
Grace a drawing-room and feel at ease—not
Show that she in wilderness was reared.
She had mastered music and languages
In travel needed most, and was withal
A finished scholar. Not for himself but
Her, he feared to take her hence—knew full well
That one so beautiful would soon be wooed,
And he had never told her of the cloud
That hung around her birth—the cloud of
Mystery. As for himself, he loved her
All the better for it—she blameless—he
In tenderness postponed the hour; but the
Longer left undone, he dreading knew that
One day it must come; in honor must he
Speak—must tell her, though it break her heart, to
Know that he was not her father. Often
Did he wish that in her childhood had he
Told her all. Yet, in his weakness, promised
Her that some day they would go: “Yes; some day.”
Troubled by the change he saw in Zola.
She loved Gilbert—loved him wildly, madly.
She had watched him when he knew it not, and
Knew that he loved her; but frightened at the
Thought, was minded to keep the secret
Locked in her own breast and fly from him; so
Timidly she asked if some day they might
Go away, and sailing o’er the ocean
Find another home. Cedric answered, “Yes,
Some day.” He had long expected this and
Unknown to her, had in a way, prepared
Her for the change. From that lone mountain top
Letters had been sent to shops and houses
Of the east, and yearly in return had
Come by Indian carriers from the port
Clothing for himself and Zola, made to
Measure sent, and always in their study
Hours they dressed resplendently, that she might
Grace a drawing-room and feel at ease—not
Show that she in wilderness was reared.
She had mastered music and languages
In travel needed most, and was withal
A finished scholar. Not for himself but
Her, he feared to take her hence—knew full well
That one so beautiful would soon be wooed,
And he had never told her of the cloud
That hung around her birth—the cloud of
Mystery. As for himself, he loved her
All the better for it—she blameless—he
In tenderness postponed the hour; but the
Longer left undone, he dreading knew that
One day it must come; in honor must he
Speak—must tell her, though it break her heart, to
Know that he was not her father. Often
Did he wish that in her childhood had he
Told her all. Yet, in his weakness, promised
Her that some day they would go: “Yes; some day.”
Gilbert, growing wise in woodcraft and in
The art of making love, on the farther
Side went up the mountain, rode Leo up
The winding trail; Zola watching, waited
Disappointed while he—galloping o’er the
Table-land—came on Cedric busy in
His garden. They with kindly greeting met,
Conversing, found each the other to his
Liking. He too manly to dissemble,
Gilbert came out openly: The one so
Coy and beautiful, was she his daughter?
Cedric troubled, sternly answered: “She is mine,
Indeed, my Zola.” How learned the young man of
Her presence on the mountain? Had he met
Her? Had they met clandestinely? Gilbert,
Speaking plainly, said: Tho’ strangers,
Yet they knew each other well; he long had
Worship’d her afar; well she knew and well
Had she evaded him. Now, at last, had
He found the one to ask if he might meet and
Woo her, would he give consent? Cedric saw
His good intent, sincerity and truth,
Looked upon him with the feeling of the
Father for the son. Then like a phantom
Came that secret terror of his life,—he
Spoke unlike himself—severe, unkindly.
“She obeys her father’s will and he would
Will that she remain unseen, unknown
To strange intruder. The young man makes bold
In asking.”
The art of making love, on the farther
Side went up the mountain, rode Leo up
The winding trail; Zola watching, waited
Disappointed while he—galloping o’er the
Table-land—came on Cedric busy in
His garden. They with kindly greeting met,
Conversing, found each the other to his
Liking. He too manly to dissemble,
Gilbert came out openly: The one so
Coy and beautiful, was she his daughter?
Cedric troubled, sternly answered: “She is mine,
Indeed, my Zola.” How learned the young man of
Her presence on the mountain? Had he met
Her? Had they met clandestinely? Gilbert,
Speaking plainly, said: Tho’ strangers,
Yet they knew each other well; he long had
Worship’d her afar; well she knew and well
Had she evaded him. Now, at last, had
He found the one to ask if he might meet and
Woo her, would he give consent? Cedric saw
His good intent, sincerity and truth,
Looked upon him with the feeling of the
Father for the son. Then like a phantom
Came that secret terror of his life,—he
Spoke unlike himself—severe, unkindly.
“She obeys her father’s will and he would
Will that she remain unseen, unknown
To strange intruder. The young man makes bold
In asking.”
Answered Gilbert, manfully:
“May not a true heart be emboldened by
The hope of winning one so beautiful?
The asking honorable? Perchance the
Señor has himself in days gone by made
Like request?” Spoke of his family
Old and honored, lived on the Gilbert rancho
In the valley. Would he offer them rebuke
Unwittingly? Cedric by his words the
More determined they should never meet, for
Zola’s sake and his, resolved to flee
With her, so spoke deceitfully. He must
Go and wait six days and on the seventh
Come; if she were there then he might speak with
Her. Gilbert said respectfully: “’Tis well!
With such a hope I well may add to my
Long waiting one more week.” And with a smile
Of hopefulness, he rode away. Cedric
Pitying, watched him disappear among
The ceanothus bloom and drooping boughs.
“May not a true heart be emboldened by
The hope of winning one so beautiful?
The asking honorable? Perchance the
Señor has himself in days gone by made
Like request?” Spoke of his family
Old and honored, lived on the Gilbert rancho
In the valley. Would he offer them rebuke
Unwittingly? Cedric by his words the
More determined they should never meet, for
Zola’s sake and his, resolved to flee
With her, so spoke deceitfully. He must
Go and wait six days and on the seventh
Come; if she were there then he might speak with
Her. Gilbert said respectfully: “’Tis well!
With such a hope I well may add to my
Long waiting one more week.” And with a smile
Of hopefulness, he rode away. Cedric
Pitying, watched him disappear among
The ceanothus bloom and drooping boughs.
Zola coming, on her face the look of
Sadness,—signs of weeping,—Cedric knowing
Now the secret of the change in her—the
Absence of the rippling laughter noticed
In the months gone by—his kind heart melted
And well-nigh did he repent and tell her
All, tell Gilbert; but the specter haunting
Fixed his purpose; she must go or face a
Deeper sorrow. So, despite his feeling,
Smilingly and cheerful, told her they would
Go and sail across the ocean—sail to
Foreign lands. Thus seeking to beguile and
Turn her from the tie that bound her heart to
Palomar, spake he of the people and
The sights that they would see. Long had they
Remained in Nature’s parlor; now going,
Would they view the halls and palaces of
Splendor they had read about. She smiling
Sadly, kissed and thanked him for his kindness.
Sadness,—signs of weeping,—Cedric knowing
Now the secret of the change in her—the
Absence of the rippling laughter noticed
In the months gone by—his kind heart melted
And well-nigh did he repent and tell her
All, tell Gilbert; but the specter haunting
Fixed his purpose; she must go or face a
Deeper sorrow. So, despite his feeling,
Smilingly and cheerful, told her they would
Go and sail across the ocean—sail to
Foreign lands. Thus seeking to beguile and
Turn her from the tie that bound her heart to
Palomar, spake he of the people and
The sights that they would see. Long had they
Remained in Nature’s parlor; now going,
Would they view the halls and palaces of
Splendor they had read about. She smiling
Sadly, kissed and thanked him for his kindness.
She daily strolled where she had seen the face
Of Gilbert, vainly waiting with the hope
That he would come once more—pensively, with
Tears—and prayed that she might see him once
Again before she went away. The sun
From out its saffron-tinted bed burst forth
And kissed the mountain peaks. She weeping, heard
The matin song of birds and cooing doves,
The melody of Nature’s minstrelsy—
Heard, and yet not heard, for today must she
Decide among her treasures, which to take
And which to leave behind. Came Zimbo and
Her pets for breakfast from her hand, the last
But one, for early on the morrow she
Would go. “Shall we never come again to
This dear spot?” she asked. Cedric feigning
Cheerfulness, his sadness ill-concealed,—ran
On assuringly: “Of course, we will return
And rest from our long journey ’round the world;
Come, bring your bric-a-brac, my girl, and we
Will pack it snugly in the cabin, bar
The doors and leave all safe and sound. We may
Find Zimbo and the other pets all waiting
When we come. Cheer up, my darling; dry your
Tears, for wondrous sights are waiting for those
Eyes to feast upon.” Thus talking, while he
Packed her treasures in the hidden cabin.
Of Gilbert, vainly waiting with the hope
That he would come once more—pensively, with
Tears—and prayed that she might see him once
Again before she went away. The sun
From out its saffron-tinted bed burst forth
And kissed the mountain peaks. She weeping, heard
The matin song of birds and cooing doves,
The melody of Nature’s minstrelsy—
Heard, and yet not heard, for today must she
Decide among her treasures, which to take
And which to leave behind. Came Zimbo and
Her pets for breakfast from her hand, the last
But one, for early on the morrow she
Would go. “Shall we never come again to
This dear spot?” she asked. Cedric feigning
Cheerfulness, his sadness ill-concealed,—ran
On assuringly: “Of course, we will return
And rest from our long journey ’round the world;
Come, bring your bric-a-brac, my girl, and we
Will pack it snugly in the cabin, bar
The doors and leave all safe and sound. We may
Find Zimbo and the other pets all waiting
When we come. Cheer up, my darling; dry your
Tears, for wondrous sights are waiting for those
Eyes to feast upon.” Thus talking, while he
Packed her treasures in the hidden cabin.
THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.
Gilbert, sleepless, counted yet the slowly
Dragging hours—three more days, and then
The promised one; pondered o’er the words of
That strange man on Palomar,—words so oft
Repeated: “If she be here, then you may
Speak with her.” “If she be here!” Their meaning—
His intention—dawned upon him. “She will
Not be there!” In frantic haste he rose and
Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and
Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks;
His adolescent blood in angry throbs,
His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across
The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita
Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early
Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric.
Dragging hours—three more days, and then
The promised one; pondered o’er the words of
That strange man on Palomar,—words so oft
Repeated: “If she be here, then you may
Speak with her.” “If she be here!” Their meaning—
His intention—dawned upon him. “She will
Not be there!” In frantic haste he rose and
Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and
Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks;
His adolescent blood in angry throbs,
His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across
The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita
Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early
Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric.
On the slope he saw the tethered burros,
Well-filled packs and camping equipage near
By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing
Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters
Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’
He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric
Placing bars before the door, and Zola
By his side. At sight of him came bounding
Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head
Uncovered—bowed, as one in reverential
Attitude before a shrine—addressed her:
“We have been acquainted long, if not by
Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two
Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter,
He may tell you of his promise—explain
The breaking—doubting not his motive, I
Believe him kind and true.”
Well-filled packs and camping equipage near
By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing
Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters
Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’
He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric
Placing bars before the door, and Zola
By his side. At sight of him came bounding
Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head
Uncovered—bowed, as one in reverential
Attitude before a shrine—addressed her:
“We have been acquainted long, if not by
Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two
Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter,
He may tell you of his promise—explain
The breaking—doubting not his motive, I
Believe him kind and true.”
“Calls you daughter!”
Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor
Swept across his kindly face. The time had
Come when he must speak—must tell the secret
Of his life—her life. Then he recited
All that he remembered,—Zola’s unknown
Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that
She be taken; how he had suffered with
The dread of making known to her that he
Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man
Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion
Setting all aside, she sprang to him and
Clinging, cried: “He is my own dear father!”
Her dazzling beauty now intensified.
Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor
Swept across his kindly face. The time had
Come when he must speak—must tell the secret
Of his life—her life. Then he recited
All that he remembered,—Zola’s unknown
Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that
She be taken; how he had suffered with
The dread of making known to her that he
Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man
Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion
Setting all aside, she sprang to him and
Clinging, cried: “He is my own dear father!”
Her dazzling beauty now intensified.
As one enchanted, Gilbert looked upon
The scene; such filial love revealed a depth
Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those
Who called him son—what they had done for him—
And of the promise he had made to them.
Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride
Of name and family might they not spurn
This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed
His love for her was satisfied; fortune,
Name and family were all as naught to
Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked
Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and
Winning, give to her his name.
The scene; such filial love revealed a depth
Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those
Who called him son—what they had done for him—
And of the promise he had made to them.
Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride
Of name and family might they not spurn
This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed
His love for her was satisfied; fortune,
Name and family were all as naught to
Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked
Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and
Winning, give to her his name.
“No, no,” she
Answered for the father, “until this cloud
Is lifted—mystery solved—my name is
Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in
On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he
Had promised would he go back to the states
And seek a bride, solve the mystery and
Return triumphant, claim her—his Zola—
As his bride. Would take the ship now in
The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave
The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory
Yielded meagerly of information
Needed. He well remembered all his life
Up to the day that he left Lola at
Her father’s home, and from the day she died,
The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank.
Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this
Day your life shall be a pattern for my
Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are
Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and
Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held
Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long
Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed
Him aside and whispered: “The father, if
He be found, pray name her not to him.” From
The mountain top she watched him out of sight;
Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s
Daughter wept.
Answered for the father, “until this cloud
Is lifted—mystery solved—my name is
Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in
On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he
Had promised would he go back to the states
And seek a bride, solve the mystery and
Return triumphant, claim her—his Zola—
As his bride. Would take the ship now in
The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave
The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory
Yielded meagerly of information
Needed. He well remembered all his life
Up to the day that he left Lola at
Her father’s home, and from the day she died,
The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank.
Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this
Day your life shall be a pattern for my
Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are
Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and
Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held
Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long
Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed
Him aside and whispered: “The father, if
He be found, pray name her not to him.” From
The mountain top she watched him out of sight;
Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s
Daughter wept.