The September days were exceptionally warm ones, but no one seemed to mind them because the evenings were cool. The two pilgrims continued their progress, advancing rapidly and in such a rosy atmosphere that the millennium seemed close at hand. Whatever Homer Forbes’ plans were, and as yet only he and Eleanor seemed to know much about them, they evidently met the entire approval of the lady in the question, for she threw herself into the process of perfecting them with an ardor that nearly drove her family frantic. No matter where they turned, they found plans and specifications lying about, and Eleanor’s room resembled an architect’s drafting-office. Not long after that walk up the mountain there had been a closeted hour’s talk with Mrs. Carruth, and when Homer Forbes came out of the library at the end of it he was in such a perturbed state of mind that he nearly fell over Mammy as he rushed through the hall, out of the front door and across the piazza, to vanish down the road and leave the family staring after him; at least, that portion of the family which happened to be seated there. Hard upon his heels followed Mammy, crying:
“Gawd bress ma soul! what Miss Jinny done ter dat man? ’Pears lak he gone plum loony.” Then, turning to Mrs. Carruth, who followed not far behind, Mammy continued: “Miss Jinny, is dat man gone cl’ar crazy?”
Mrs. Carruth smiled as she replied:
“They sometimes call it ‘a very mid-summer madness,’ Mammy, but mid-summer has passed, hasn’t it? It’s not dangerous, however. You would better go upstairs and ask Miss Nornie. I am sure she can tell you more about Mr. Forbes than I can. At all events, she has decided to let him guide her through life, so she must have an abiding faith in him, and I have told him he may do so if she wishes it. By the spring you will have to climb to the top of Mt. Parnassus if you wish to see your Miss Nornie, I think.”
“Whar dat place at?” demanded Mammy, while Hadyn gave a low whistle, and Constance cried, “What did I tell you, Mumsey?” as Jean jumped up and down in her excitement.
“You had better go upstairs and ask Miss Nornie, Mammy,” and straightway Mammy whirled about and started upstairs to Eleanor’s room, where she found her buried neck-deep in a pile of drafting papers, triangles, compasses and pencils; though just what she was drawing plans for Mammy could not guess. When questioned of late Eleanor had given negative, abstracted replies which more than once nearly convulsed her hearers, and upon one occasion she had brought consternation upon the family by emptying a brimming washbowl of water into her scrap-basket instead of her slop-jar. Evidently the scrap-basket had figured more prominently in her thoughts of late than had her washbowl.
As Mammy appeared at the door Eleanor was bending over a great blueprint plan which she had spread upon the floor. It was a tremendous affair, fully two by four feet, and Eleanor was down upon her knees, hands outspread and locks flying, too absorbed to be aware of Mammy’s presence.
“Peripatos, peristyle penetralia,” murmured the engrossed one, tracing with a slender forefinger the lines upon her plan, then repeating, “Penetralia, penetralia. How interesting.”
“What in de name o’ man is you jabberin’ about, anyway, Miss Nornie?”
Eleanor came to an upright position with a start, crying:
“Goodness, Mammy, how you startled me!”
“Yo’ better had git up f’om dat floor ’stid o’ bendin’ ober dat sky-blue sheet o’ paper what done look lak it got Chinee writin’ an’ drawin’ on it. Yo’ face make out de res’ ob de colors fer de hull ’Merican flag: red, white an’ blue alltergedder. ’Taint no kynd ob a day fer ter be bendin’ ober lak yo’ is. Nex’ t’ing yo’ know yo’ gwine git rush o’ blood ter de haid, an’ dat’s bad, I tells yo’! Wha’ yo’ gwine do wid all dat blue stuff, anyway? Yo’ ain’ tell me one single t’ing ’bout it, an’ I ain’ know wha’ ’tis. An’ I wants fer ter know, too, if yo’ gwine be home ter lunch ter day.” Mammy’s sharp eye scrutinized the rosy face before her.
“O, you needn’t bother about me, Mammy. Mr. Forbes will be over shortly and we are going for a tramp.”
“Tromp! tromp!” echoed Mammy. “Tromp on sich a hot day as dis hyar wid de fermom’ter jist nachelly climbin’ cl’ar out er sight? Is you done gone silly, yo’ an’ dat Perfesser Fo’bes? Yo’ stay ter home in dis cool house what I done darken up fer ter keep out de sizzlin’, billin’ heat. It fa’r scoch de very skin off yo’ body. Don’ yo’ let dat man drag yo’ up dat mountain on sich a day, I tells yo’.”
“Oh, we don’t mind it, and the woods are so cool. Just put up one of your delicious little luncheons for us, and we’ll be more than supplied.”
“Cool in de woods! Yis, when yo’ gits to em, but yo’s got right smart ter walk fo’ yo’ comes ter dem, an’ I ain’ pinin’ fer no sich ’xertion on such a frazzlin’-out day. But I reckons I jist better save ma’ bref dan spend it a-talkin’. Yo’ lunch gwine be ready fo’ yo’ when yo’ ready fo’ it; but what I wants ter know now is, what all dat meanin’,” and Mammy pointed again to the big blueprint.
Eleanor was not given to emotion but there come times in every life when one’s emotions are more easily played upon than at others. The past week had held such moments for Eleanor. Of all Mammy’s children Eleanor had been the least demonstrative. She rarely caressed the old woman as Constance and Jean did. Now, however, she bounded to her feet and, rushing to Mammy, cried:
“Oh, Mammy! Mammy! Do you believe in dreams? Don’t you think they come true sometimes?”
“A heap o’ times!” interjected Mammy.
Eleanor sighed ecstatically. I knew you would say so, Mammy. “And ours will, won’t it?”
“Who ‘ours?’” demanded Mammy, her lips pursed up, and distrust in her eyes.
“Homer’s and mine! Homer! Isn’t that a name to inspire one? Fate must have ordained that he should bear such a name. Only a classic poet’s could be in harmony. It must be the purest, the best, the finest, the most perfect,” rhapsodized Eleanor.
Mammy looked at her a little anxiously, and asked:
“Isn’t yo’ better lay down on dat baid yonder? Yo’s been a bendin’ ober dose papers twell yo’ haid’s achin’, I’se feered.”
“Ah, no, Mammy, but think of it! To live in a Grecian dwelling! A perfect reproduction of an Athenian temple. With the fountain of Hippocrene in it’s center, from which a rill will flow murmuring all the day. Helicon’s harmonious stream. We shall call it Helicon Hall, and there we shall train the youthful mind to a deep appreciation of true beauty. In the central court, overroofed with glass and filled with tropical plants, will be our hearth stone, our altar, on either side of which will stand our lares and penates. Could any other mind have conceived this wonderful dream in this prosaic age? See, see our plans, Mammy? How clear, how concise, how graphic. Ah, I can picture it all—all.”
“Well den I cyant!” cried Mammy, losing patience, “and I don’ reckon yo’ Ma nor none ob de yethers kin. At any rate, I got sumpin else ter do ’sides standin’ hyar listenin’ at what I sets down as jist foolishness; an’ ef I was yo’ Ma I’d tell yo’ not ter go a-climbin’ up dat mountain no mo’ twell de wedder done cool off some,” and with this admonition Mammy left the dreamer to her dreams. But before we take a long leave of her, we will add, by the way, that in the course of time this dream crystallized into a large building, in the form of the Parthenon, wherein this modern Socrates, Professor Homer Forbes, and a charming Hypatia, his wife, led the minds of affluent youths, whose parents were willing to indulge them in such luxuries, along paths of learning literally flower-strewn. Reclining at length upon the green sward of the court of Helicon Hill, they drank in the words of wisdom falling from the lips of their preceptors. Eleanor had achieved her ideals: Homer Forbes his. What more could mortals ask?
And the lares and penates? Well, Jean was rather practical. Those old Greek fireside gods might be all very well in their way, but Greece had seen her day. In the present one there was a quaint little grinning “god of things, as they ought to be,” to which Jean pinned greater faith; and when, one beautiful April day, Homer Forbes and his bride returned from their wedding journey, and entered the inner court of Helicon Hall, where the (let us hope) sacred fire burned upon the hearth, the first thing upon which Eleanor’s eyes rested in these classic surroundings was “Billykin,” perched above the blazing logs.
And in the interval between that warm September day and the lighting of that hearth by loving hands for the home-coming of the idealists? Ah, life holds some sweet moments, and this old world is not such a bad one, after all. But we anticipate.
October came again, and all the world was beautiful in its golden haze. With Eleanor’s engagement to Homer Forbes, and her complete absorption in her demi-god, who had changed her plans so completely, her future so entirely, Eleanor plunged headlong into consummating his dreams so far as in her power lay. This left Constance largely to herself and her own plans. All had gone well with her, and, with the beginning of the social season in Riveredge and elsewhere, Constance’s business grew very brisk. She was kept busy from morning to evening. It was a wonderfully happy life for her. To be the chief support of her family, to give to her mother the thousand little luxuries she had known in earlier life, to give to Jean every possible advantage, both educational and social, and still have time to enjoy life at its heyday herself—why—surely, no more could be asked.
Mary and Fanny Willing were as happy and content as two girls well could be, and worked and sang from dawn to twilight. With the autumn even more help became necessary to keep abreast of the orders; and, through Hadyn, Constance secured the services of a man in whom Hadyn was deeply interested. He had known him in college days, but days of adversity had overtaken him, and for two years he had seemed to be the very toy of an adverse fate. In that interval his family had slipped into the Great Beyond, and the small nest-egg left him had been swept from him by the failure of the company in which it was invested, throwing Edward DeLaney upon his own resources.
Upon Hadyn’s advice he was engaged by Constance as bookkeeper and a sort of general superintendent, dividing his time between the Candy Kitchen, the Arcade, and the other booths, which, in the course of time had been established elsewhere. He was only twenty-five, but an able, manly fellow, quick-witted and resourceful. He took firm hold of affairs instantly, and, during the course of the ensuing winter, Constance more than once thanked the lucky star which had guided this tall, clear-eyed, finely-set-up six-foot laddie to her Candy Kitchen. No one could look into those fine, hazel eyes without trusting them instantly, nor see the lines of that resolute, yet tender mouth without reading the man’s character. His skin was as fair and as clear as a child’s, and his smile as winning. He speedily found his way into the home circle, and just the degree of happiness it brought to him few guessed.
But this is dipping into the future by several months. At present we are in October’s golden glow.
“What a day!” cried Hadyn, as he and Constance came out upon the piazza one beautiful afternoon when luncheon was over.
“Isn’t it simply heavenly? It seems to me we never have such days excepting during October. Look at the coloring over on that mountain and on our own hills. It is perfectly intoxicating. It makes me feel like doing something out of the usual order, and yet I ought to go out yonder to the Candy Kitchen and lend a hand with the thousand and one things to be attended to. I tell you, Hadyn Stuyvesant, I am rapidly becoming a power in the commercial world,” laughed Constance.
“You are a greater power already than you guess. Before you know it that business will have grown beyond its boundaries again, and even greater expansion will be necessary. But just now let’s ‘forget it,’ and go for a ride up that glorious mountain. I’ll ’phone down to Pringle’s for Lightfoot, and we’ll have an afternoon fit for the gods.”
“Done! I’m only human, and the call of the woods on such a day as this drowns the call of duty. But I hate to take Comet from you; you seem so much a part of each other.”
“Since he came to live here he has become a part of you all, and more nearly human than ever. Jean has seen to that. How that child loves animals! I’ve a little scheme in the back part of my head which I mean shall take tangible form when her next birthday comes around.”
“Oh, what is it?” cried Constance, for everything concerning Jean held the keenest interest for her.
“Tell you after we’ve had our ride. I’m off now for my togs. See you inside half an hour. Tell Parsons to saddle Comet for you,” and with a wave of his hand Hadyn hurried away to get into his riding clothes. An hour later they rode away from the house, as bonny a pair as eyes could rest upon, and upon which one pair did rest with the love and devotion one often sees in the eyes of a dog; Mammy raised her apron, wiped a tear from her lids, and said softly to herself:
“Dem’s ma chillen. Yis, jist ma own God-blessedest ones what ever is live! Him, too. Miss Nornie kin tek up wid dat Perfesser man ef she wanter, but gimme dat one ridin’ ’way yonder. He’s de very cream ob all creation, an’ he gwine be mighty good ter ma baby, too. I ain’t need no secon’ sight fer ter read dat writin’. An’ he gwine fin’ out what a pearl o’ price he gettin’, too, dough I reckons he got some notion o’ dat a’reddy. An’ he gwine git somepin’ he ain’ countin’ ’pon a mite, an’ would be clar ’bove countin’ ’pon anyhow; he gwine git a wife wha’ got her own nes’aig. Charles an’ me ain’ run dat ar’ lunch counter all dis time jist fer fun an’ de reppitation it done give us; no, sir-ee! We done put ’side ’nough fer ter give each o’ ole Massa’s gran’chillen dey dots, as dose French folks calls it. Yis, we is, an’ I’s proud ob it, too. It’s de onlies’ way we kin eber show em dat dey’s ours, an’ we’s deirs. Mebbe Massa Stuyvesant got a-plenty, an’ mebbe Massa Fo’bes is got, too, a-plenty fer ’em bofe—I dunno—but I knows dis much: A ’omans a mighty sight mo’ self-respectin’ an’, an’ sort o’ stan’in’ firm on her own foots ef she knows dars a stockin’full o’ gol’ wha’ she kin turn inside-out ef she want ter ’thout axin’ ’by yo’ leave, Mr. Man,’ no matter how she love him or he love her. An’ me an’ Charles done fix dat all right, so we has. Gawd bress ma chillen! Gawd bress em! Dey’s filled ma soul wid joy all de days of ma life, and dey’s made Charles’ foots fer ter walk in de green past’ers endurin’ his declinin’ years. Oh, we’s happy, we is, wid de Gawd-blessedes’ white folks two ol’ cullered folks ever is know.”
How quickly things come about in this world. Barely an hour had passed since good old Mammy watched her “baby” ride away so happily. Never were hearts lighter than those of the riders. The girl mounted upon the beautiful thoroughbred bay horse, which had grown to know and love her voice and touch as he knew and loved his master’s; his splendid head tossing up and down in his delight; his superb neck arching in pride; his delicate nostrils distended to draw in delicious whiffs of the pine-scented air; his dainty hoofs barely touching the ground! Grace, beauty, strength incarnate as the play of the great muscles beneath that satiny coat carried him forward—one of God’s most perfect creatures. The girl riding cross-saddle felt the thrill of his action to her finger-tips. Her body swayed with every motion of the beautiful horse. She seemed a very part of him; he of her. The man riding beside her upon his fine gray was fully alive to the beauty of both rider and horse, and his eyes rested upon them with intense admiration. The soft light of the woods seemed reflected in the eyes she turned toward him—its mystery in the smile which curved his lips. It was a happy world, and these two could enjoy its beauty.
The horse Hadyn rode was a high-strung, nervous creature, alert to every sound or motion about him. As they passed through the town he had shied more than once, and required firm handling; but up in this silent mountain road there was little to excite him, and Comet’s example had a quieting influence. They had nearly reached the summit of the mountain, and just ahead the road made a sharp turn. They were close upon it when a warning honk! honk! caused Haydn to tighten his hold upon his reins. Then around the turn whirled a huge touring car. It was all over in a moment. The car skidded, hurled itself against the riders, the chauffeur made a desperate attempt to control his machine, but failed, and it tore on down the mountain entirely beyond his control, leaving behind it a prone horse and a madly excited one, which, in spite of its rider’s strenuous efforts to control it, dashed on a quarter of a mile up the mountain before he could stop it, turn and gallop back to the spot where the accident occurred. Those minutes seemed like years to Hadyn. Flinging himself from the horse, though still holding the bridle rein, he cried:
“My God, my darling!” as he caught Constance in his arms. She did not appear to notice his act or his words, but stood, white and trembling, pointing to Comet.
“But you, you, my little girl! my little girl!”
“No, no! I’m not hurt a particle. Quick! tie that mad brute to a tree and do something. I slid off as Comet fell. I’m not hurt; but he, he is dying. Oh, Comet! Comet!” And with a heart-breaking sob she fell upon her knees beside the horse. The radiator of the car had struck his forehead and stunned him, but the heavy lantern had torn that jagged wound in the perfect foreleg just below the shoulder, and from it his life blood was gushing with every heart-throb.
“But, Constance! Constance! my little girl, you must be hurt!” cried Hadyn, bending over her.
“I’m not! I’m not, I tell you,” she cried, impatiently. “Go tie that horse and come here. We must save Comet!”
With the keenest anguish he had ever known Hadyn hurried the still restless horse to a sapling, tied him securely, and then returned to Constance, who was upon her knees striving to stanch the red stream flowing from the powerful leg. Puny effort! A moment before the splendid creature lying there upon the ground had been life, strength, vigor, beauty incarnate. Now—an inanimate mass.
“My little one, oh, my little one, come away! come away! This is no place for you,” begged Hadyn, striving to draw her from the scene. She turned upon him like a fury, echoing indignantly:
“Come away! come away! What are you saying, Hadyn? With Comet dying? For he is. Quick! help me. We must stop this! I’m afraid an artery is severed. Make a tourniquet of your handkerchief or something. Oh, do! do!” she urged, frantically.
“Oh, this is horrible! horrible! I would rather have him die a hundred deaths than have you pass through all this!” cried Hadyn, as he tied his handkerchief about the horse’s leg and sought to twist it tight enough to stop the flow. It was useless. It needed a stouter bandage than that. The girl saw this, and the next instant had unbuckled the bridle rein, and was kneeling and binding it around the leg above that ragged wound. Then quickly slipping her riding-crop through the loop with Hadyn’s assistance, she turned it tighter and tighter, and presently had the joy of seeing that red flow lessen. “Oh, for help! Is no one within a hundred miles of us?” she moaned. “Hold this, Hadyn, and let me ride for someone,” she cried.
“Constance! Never! Do you realize the state you are in?”—for the girl had given no thought to self in her excitement. One glance at her habit was enough.
“And do you think I would let you mount that mad brute? Had he not plunged aside, he, instead of Comet, would be lying before us this minute.
“Then you must go. Go at once, Hadyn. Ride to Pringle’s for the ambulance and help.”
“And leave you here alone on this mountain road with that horse, which may revive from this blow and struggle? Constance, are you mad?”
“No, I was never saner in all my life; but, unless you go, I shall. He won’t struggle; he knows my voice, and he is already too weak from this—this awful thing to try to struggle,” and she pointed shudderingly at the discolored earth. “Hadyn, dear, dear Hadyn, please, please go,” she implored, turning up to him a pair of eyes swimming in tears. “I shall know what to do. Oh, please trust me! Please, do!”
For one moment the man looked at the woman dearer to him than all the world beside, then stooping over her he rested his lips first upon one eyelid then the other, and said very, very gently:
“God bless and guard you, my darling. I shall go as quickly as that beast can take me, and I shall never forget this. Comet, Comet, old man, we’ve fought some tough fights; but this is the toughest of all,” and, bending over the horse, he ran his hand along the silky neck.
The faintest flutter of the nostrils acknowledged the caress, and the next second Hadyn had flung himself upon Lightfoot, and was riding down that mountain road at a pace which threatened destruction. Constance had never for a second lessened her firm hold upon the riding-crop, but her eyes followed the rider, and her lips murmured:
“A moment ago I was a girl and did not realize. Now I know. Oh, Hadyn, Hadyn, come safely back to us!” and still holding that life-saving little riding-crop she laid her head down upon the beautiful neck and sobbed as though her heart would break.
Animals which are constantly with human beings learn to understand the tones which varying emotions govern, just as a human being learns to understand the wonderful language of the so-called dumb creatures. Comet had been Hadyn’s closest companion for years, and during the past six months had been petted and cared for by all in Mrs. Carruth’s home. But it was Constance whom he had grown to love best; Constance who rode him when Hadyn was at his office; and many a delightful hour’s exercise had she taken on the splendid horse.
Very gradually Comet came back to the world of real things around him. The great eyes opened and the delicate nostrils quivered. There was a slight effort to rise, but close to his ear murmured the voice he had learned to love and obey as an army horse obeys the voice of his master.
“Steady, Comet! Dear, dear Comet, keep quiet. There, old fellow! There! Steady! steady!”
The ears were turned to catch each tone; the eyes shone with a human intelligence; the nostrils breathed audibly, but the horse lay as quiet as though life had departed, and Constance did not move.
How long the minutes seemed! How far away from human aid that mountain road! How solemn, how silent the great woodland, stretching, stretching away in a vista of glorious colors! Overhead the soft October winds whispered and sighed in the tree-tops; and with each sigh a few brilliant leaves fluttered to the ground—dear Nature’s coverlid for some baby growth to be nestled for its long winter’s sleep. Far away the crows cawed and called to one another. Overhead, ominous shadow! a hawk circled. And then, as though to dispel a sign so baleful, clear, sweet, exquisite as a voice from Paradise, came the liquid notes of a hermit thrush—a late lingerer whom his mates had left behind when they took flight to sunnier climes against the coming of bitter days.
The notes brought comfort to the girl. She had always loved them. No other bird-call meant so much to her as this, for it was associated with some of the sweetest and, yes, the saddest experiences of her life, and now it held a meaning it had never before held. All her life these notes would stand above all others. The experience was, indeed, bittersweet. She did not know how long she had lain there, for time seemed at a standstill, when along the ground she heard the rapid thud, thud of a horse’s flying feet, and raising her head she saw Hadyn returning, Lightfoot in a lather and his flanks heaving. Hadyn flung himself from the horse, which was now too spent to do anything but stand and pant, and hurried to Constance’s side. Dropping upon his knees beside her, he drew her into his arms as she rose to her knees from her prone position, though she never for an instant relaxed her hold upon the crop. Comet nickered faintly, but for the first time in his life failed to hear his master’s response to that greeting.
Like a weary little child Constance let her head fall, upon the shoulder so near it, and whispered:
“Oh, Hadyn, the minutes have seemed so long to us!”
“My little girl! my little girl! Dear, dear heart!—so courageous, so brave, so strong! So perfect a woman in your tenderness combined with your strength. This hour has shown me what you are to me; what life would be without you. I thought I knew before, but I did not. And you, dear heart?”
There was no answer, but the softly perfumed hair nestled still closer against him. His arm tightened about her, and he said gently:
“I’ve waited four years for this moment, dear, but I never dreamed of such a setting for it. No words are necessary to tell me what I’ve won by waiting; but—the Ambulance is not far behind, and will be here in a few moments. My sign and seal, dear. May I claim it now? Then let me hold the crop and you go ever yonder.”
Without a word the pure, beautiful face was raised to his, and in that moment Hadyn Stuyvesant felt that Paradise could not be far removed from such lips, for none could be purer or holier, and into his life at that instant came all that is best in manhood.
“Now go, my darling.” Constance shook her head and smiled a gentle refusal.
“Please.”
“No, dear; not until the Veterinary takes it from my hands. Yours are trembling, and it might loosen. There comes the Ambulance now. It will only be a moment longer.”
When the panting horses which drew the Ambulance came to a standstill the Veterinary sprang from it and hurried to the group.
“By George, Miss Carruth, have you done this?” he exclaimed. “Well, you can thank this young lady, Stuyvesant, for saving a valuable horse’s life. Now, turn your patient over to me, Miss Carruth, and we will get him into the Ambulance and down the hill as fast as we can. There, that’s right. Now, Stuyvesant, get her away from this place. A carriage is right behind us, and you must take her home. What an experience for a girl! Jo, you take charge of Lightfoot yonder.”
Hadyn bent over to stroke his pet, and Constance knelt to press her lips to the great neck, then with Hadyn’s aid struggled to her feet. She was cramped and stiff, but Hadyn’s arm supported her, and more than one pair of eyes followed the girl admiringly as he led her to the carriage which just then drew up.
“Don’t give a thought to this, Stuyvesant. We will do everything possible, and Miss Carruth needs you more than Comet does now,” the Veterinary called after them.
“I’ll have her safely home in twenty minutes!” Hadyn called back.
Neither ever forgot that drive down the mountain. Until the strain was removed the girl did not realize how great it had been during the foregoing hour. Constance was thankful for the sheltering cover of that depot carriage and the strong arm encircling her. Her own strength seemed suddenly to have left her. Only Mrs. Carruth and Mammy were at home when they reached there. Hadyn half carried Constance to them.
“Bress Gawd! what done happen?” cried Mammy, almost taking the worn-out girl in her arms. “Has you done fell off Comet?”
“Hadyn, what is it?” cried Mrs. Carruth.
“She is not harmed, but is nervously exhausted. Will you believe me, and let Mammy put her to bed for a few hours? Go, rest, my darling,” he said, taking Constance’s face in his hands and pressing his lips to her’s.
“Glory be ter Gawd! Come wid me, baby. D’ere’s nothin’ wrong wid you, I knows. Ef you’s done had a fright, he gwine be de bes’ medicine bimeby. Go ’long wid yo’ boy, Miss Jinny—yo’s got one now—an’ leave dis hyar chile ter me.”
“Constance, darling, tell me first that you are not injured,” said Mrs. Carruth, tenderly taking the girl in her arms.
Constance nestled against her and whispered softly:
“Not hurt a particle, Mother, only a little shaky, and, oh, so happy! Let Mammy help me while Hadyn tells you,” and smiling through her tears the girl was led upstairs by Mammy’s ever ready, loving arms.
Mrs. Carruth’s eyes followed her a moment, then turned to encounter Hadyn’s looking at her with a tenderness she never forgot as he extended his arms and said:
“My little mother! My little mother! Will you let these serve and hold you henceforth? May I be, as dear old Mammy says, ‘your boy?’ You do not know how I have longed to be that in reality all these years that I have been waiting. Come!”
“In the beautiful days of long ago,”
When all this world was so new and fair,
An Angel came from the world above
To bestow the gift of all gifts most rare.
And what was this blessing?—this priceless boon,
To bring to mortals the greatest good?
Ah! need I whisper that name so dear—
God’s precious gift of Motherhood?Perhaps but once in her life can a woman know a more precious moment than that in which she gives her daughter into the love and keeping of the man she has learned to love, and this mother realizes that he is now her son. The sense of rest, peace, protection that came to Mrs. Carruth when this strong man held her in his arms, and called her by that tenderest of all names, “Mother,” passes all power to describe. From that instant he was “her boy,” for the man ever remains “the boy” in the mother’s love, and Hadyn had rich store of Mrs. Carruth’s.
Leading her to a settee, with arm still circling her, he told her the whole story. When it was ended he asked gently:
“And can the heart find room for another son, little Mother?”
Taking the fine, strong face in her hands, she kissed him very tenderly, saying:
“I think you have always been that to me, dear. Yes, from the first hour I knew you. I am very, very happy in my newest son, and can trust my little girl to his care with all faith and confidence.”
“God bless you!” whispered Hadyn.
“Who is here?” cried Jean at the door of the library, and running in came to a sudden standstill. Neither her mother nor Hadyn spoke, and for a moment Jean stood motionless in the middle of the room, her eyes turned first upon one face then upon the other, her expressive face changing as her emotions changed. Then impulsively as she did everything, she ran toward them and, dropping upon her knees beside Hadyn, clasped her arms around his neck, and, nestling her cheek against his, cried:
“Now I know you are all mine, and everyone may know how hard I love you, for any girl may love a brother all she wants to.”
That was a wonderfully sweet moment for Hadyn.
Does much more remain to be told?
Yes, but that is another story.
THE END.