Quickly as Dan followed, Rags was before him, with his sharp, peculiar
bark, and then a sudden low whine of fear or trouble. The boy's heart
stood still, and he hurried the faster. Rags came whining to his feet
as he reached the arbor. And then Dan saw her.
She lay sleeping on the pile of comfortables, in her little white frock,
with the spray of roses in her hand and a slight tinge of color in her
cheek, like the flush on a half-open rosebud. The comb had fallen from
her hair, and the beautiful curls lay tumbled out upon the pillow in
lovely confusion.
The boy gazed with awe, and then turned his head reverently away. But
Rags went whining about her feet again.
Dan signed to the dog to be still, and, bending over with sudden
anxiety, watched to see if she were breathing naturally.
Gently as a child she slept, and the roses trembled with her soft
breathing. His heart leaped with joy.
"Rags, stay here and guard her!" he commanded. "Sit right there!" He
pointed to a spot in the garden walk. "Now be still."
Rags whined softly. He was trembling with excitement.
"Be still!"
The little dog thumped his tail in acquiescence, but looked wistfully
after his master as he turned away, and then at the sleeping goddess.
Dan hastened back to the house.
The horses were cropping their breakfast from the lawn at the edge of
the gravel driveway. Charles was coming down the steps, his face white
and drawn.
"Dan, I cannot find her, and there is cholera here. Mrs. Van Rensselaer
is lying desperately ill upstairs! There is another woman caring for her
and she says Dawn has gone."
He buried his face in his hands and stood still. Dan thought he was
going to fall.
"Don't!" said Dan. "I've found her. Come!" He eagerly drew Charles
along the garden walk.
"Oh, do you mean it? Are you sure, Dan?"
"Sure," said the boy. "Rags found her. She's asleep. Walk softly."
"Is there anything the matter with her, Dan?" said Charles
apprehensively, yet waited not to hear the answer, for at that instant
he reached the arbor, almost stumbling over Rags, who jumped upon him
with delight and wagged and wriggled himself joyously--albeit silently.
But Charles stood still and gazed at his beloved. His hungry eyes drank
in her loveliness, his anxious heart searched keenly for any sign of
illness. He felt himself growing weak with fear and joy.
Dan stood silent behind him, his own face lighting with the other's joy
and solemn rejoicing that they had found her.
Not so Rags. He thought the time had come for the princess to awaken
and he laid a cold, audacious nose in the open palm of Dawn's pink hand.
She at once opened her eyes.
"Dawn! My darling!" murmured Charles, and dropped upon his knees beside
her.
Rags was beside himself with joy now. He had brought the teacher to
life. But Dan grasped him by the collar and drew him away. He and Rags
might rejoice, but it was not for them to intrude at such a time as
this.
Charles gathered his young wife into his arms, laying his face gently
against hers, and over her stole a thrill of deep, solemn joy. He had
come after her! He wanted her! She was loved! In spite of the way she
had married him, she was beloved!
She closed her eyes and let the joy flow over her, a sweet, sweet pain,
till almost it took her breath away, and brought tears to her happy
eyes. He kissed them away, and said over and over, "My darling! My
darling! I have found you at last!" and she nestled closer to him and
hid her face against his breast.
It seemed a long time to Rags, and finally he broke away from his master
with a bound and stood barking joyously at their feet.
"Oh, there is Rags!" exclaimed Dawn, with a happy little laugh. "Dear
Rags!"
"Yes!" said Rags in his own way. "Dear _Teacher_! I'm glad I found
you!"
"And Dan is here, too," said Charles. "Come here, Dan, and share our
joy."
Then came Daniel, his face red with embarrassment, and stood bashfully
before her.
"I found him, and he's helped me to find you, dear," said Charles.
"He's told me all about everything."
All dishevelled as she was, with her lovely hair about her shoulders,
Dawn stood bravely to receive him, and put out both hands to the boy.
"Dear Dan!" she said.
She took his hands in hers for an instant, and Dan bowed his head, but
he had nothing to say. He felt that he had received a benediction.
Rags saw how he felt about it and tried to help him out.
"Me, too!" he barked, and Dawn, laughing, stooped and patted the dog
lovingly, while he wriggled himself half in two in his joy.
"But have you had any breakfast?" asked Charles, with sweet
responsibility in his tone, as Dawn shook back her curls and gathered
them into a knot on her head, fastening them with her comb quite
properly. Dan lowered his eyes deferentially and looked away from the
pretty sight, knowing it was not for him.
Dawn's face grew grave.
"Is it morning?" said she. "How could I have slept so long when there
was so much to be done! Mrs. Van Rensselaer----"
"I know, dear," Charles stopped her, "but she is being cared for. The
woman told me she seemed a little better. I got her letter last evening,
and we came at once, Dan and I. We had been down to New York, hunting
you, and just missed you. We had gone home utterly discouraged, when
this note came, just these words, 'Dawn is here.' We started at once.
How long had she been ill?"
"The letter?" said Dawn. "I don't understand. I just came myself
yesterday morning. She was very ill when I got here. She couldn't have
mailed any letter, unless---- Oh, it must be that she dragged herself
out and sent it while I was hunting hot water and a doctor for her? The
doctor found her lying at the gate unconscious, and brought her in."
"She had done you a great injury," said Charles, with a grave face.
"But she almost gave her life to make it right again," said Dawn
solemnly. "I have heard exertion is usually fatal in cholera. And she
asked me twice to forgive her. Think of that! Wasn't it wonderful? But
you don't know her and can't understand how unlike her that seems."
Dawn was crying softly now, and Charles soothed her anxiously.
"You must put the thought of it away, dear, or you will be ill, too.
Are you sure you feel quite well? It was a terrible experience for you
to have to go through alone. Come, we must get you something to eat at
once. What did you have last? I hope you ate nothing that had been
around the sick-room."
"I ate two boiled eggs," said Dawn, smiling through her tears. "It was
all I could find, and I was too tired to make a fire."
"Dear child!" said Charles. "But it was the best thing you could have
done, I guess. Dan, there's that broth we brought along. Betty put up
enough for a regiment."
"We will go to the kitchen and make a fire," said Dawn. "You must have
breakfast, too. You have had a long, hard ride."
"Yes, breakfast!" barked Rags impolitely.
Charles grew grave at once.
"Now, Dawn, you must not go near that house again. You have been
sufficiently exposed already. Dan and I will bring you some breakfast.
I don't like the idea of your eating anything that comes out of that
house. It isn't safe. Couldn't we make a little fire there at the edge
of the woods and warm that broth? If we had a tin dish----"
"There's a long-handled saucepan in the kitchen," said Dawn. "I'll go
and get it."
"You'll stay right here," said Dan, in his kindly, gruff way. "_I'll_
go and get it."
Before they could stop him, he had gone, and in a few minutes he
returned with a pail of water, a tea-kettle, a saucepan, and three cups.
Then he gathered sticks, and he and Charles made the fire, rigging up a
kind of crane to hold the kettle. Soon they had hot water to pour over
the dishes, and then Dawn heated the broth, and they each had a good
cupful. Even Rags had a few spoonfuls, though he sat up quite politely
at a word from Dan, with his head cocked sideways, and a knowing look,
as much as to say, "Serve yourselves first, and I'll lick the dishes."
After all, it was Dan who did everything for them. He told Charles that
it was best he should stay with his wife and guard her. There was no
telling but she might get sick or something, and it was not safe for her
to be left alone just now. Besides, it was Charles's business to care
for her, and for that reason he must keep out of danger himself. What
would happen to Dawn if Charles should get the cholera?
"But you might get it yourself, Dan, and we'd never forgive ourselves."
"Aw!" said Dan, turning away in scorn. "Don't you worry 'bout _me_."
So Dan had his way. When the doctor came he agreed with Charles that
Dawn should be gotten away at once into a high, healthy region. By this
time Mrs. Van Rensselaer's brother had arrived with a faithful family
servant. There was no need to stay. Mrs. Van Rensselaer had roused
herself to add her voice of urgency that Dawn go at once away from
contagion. So they hitched their horses to the big Van Rensselaer
carriage and rode away on a second wedding journey, attended by Dan and
Rags, two faithful servitors.
Once during the afternoon, when Dan had left them for a few minutes,
they had looked after him lovingly:
"Dear Dan!" said Charles. "I don't know what I should have done without
him. He must have his college course. How would you like to have us
send him to Harvard as a sort of thank-offering for what he has done for
us?"
And Dawn smiled happily into her husband's eyes as she answered:
"Oh, how beautiful! Could we?"
They planned it all out briefly then, and that evening, at the setting
of the sun, as they rode forth from the plague-stricken village toward
the high, cool hills where waited the little white house, Charles
broached the subject to Dan.
Charles and Dawn were in the back seat, Dan driving in front, with Rags
at his feet, with his head held proudly, as if he had always ridden in a
carriage with two gray horses.
"Dan," said Charles, leaning forward a little that he might the better
see the boy's face, "when Dawn and I go back to Cambridge in the fall,
for my last year at Harvard, we're going to take you with us."
Rags smiled widely. He had heard the talk in the afternoon, and he
expected to go to college himself.
Dan turned with a radiant, awed face, and grasped Charles's hand.
"Could I?" he asked eagerly. "_How_ could I?"
"You may need some preparation," said Charles. "Wouldn't it be a good
idea for you to come up to our house in the hills and let me coach you?
How about it, Dawn? We have always room for Dan, haven't we?"
And Dawn, smiling and happy, assured the boy that he would always be
welcome.
Later, when Charles drew Dawn's head down upon his shoulder in the
darkness, put his arm close about her, and with his free hand held both
of hers, there was tender joy and thankfulness.
Dan and Rags, up in front, knew that there were depths of happiness in
the back seat not for them, but they were content, for were they not
going to college, and in company with the two they loved best of all?
A week later Charles and Dawn stood together on the hillside, in front
of their own little house. It was very early in the morning, and off
beyond another hill the sun was just flashing into view--a great red
disc against a sky of amethyst and opal. Hill, valley, winding river,
and every tree and shrub were touched with the glory of the dawn.
They were watching Dan ride away to his home, to gather his belongings,
and prepare his family for the new order of his life.
In the afternoon Betty was to arrive by stage-coach. She was to spend
the rest of the hot weather in the cool hills with them, until the
cholera had disappeared. This was their first time absolutely alone
together since they had known each other.
They stood silent, watching the gray figure of horse and man as it
proceeded slowly down the hillside and disappeared among the trees in
the shadowy road, where night was yet lurking. Slowly, slowly, the sun
slipped up, until a great ball of ruby light grew into a brilliant glory
their eyes could not look upon. And stretched before them lay the day,
with all its radiant possibilities.
"'And he shall be as the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even
a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth
by clear shining after rain,'" quoted Charles solemnly.
They involuntarily drew closer together as they looked. Then the husband
put his arm about the wife and, looking down upon her, said:
"Dawn of the Morning, do you know that you are like all that to me?"
She hid her happy face on his shoulder, and he bent down and whispered:
"Darling! Dawn of my morning! My Dawn!"
* * * * * * * *
THE NOVELS OF
GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL
_are as thoroughly modern as they are wholesome and refreshing_
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
Mrs. Hill has the priceless gift of understanding, and it is this great
quality that makes her stories so true to life and her people so real.
THE RANSOM
HAPPINESS HILL
PATCH OF BLUE
THE CHALLENGERS
KERRY
THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME
SILVER WINGS
LADYBIRD
THE WHITE LADY
THE GOLD SHOE
FOUND TREASURE
BLUE RUIN
THE PRODIGAL GIRL
DUSKIN
CRIMSON ROSES
OUT OF THE STORM
THE HONOR GIRL
JOB'S NIECE
A NEW NAME
ARIEL CUSTER
THE BEST MAN
THE CITY OF FIRE
CLOUDY JEWEL
DAWN OF THE MORNING
THE ENCHANTED BARN
EXIT BETTY
THE FINDING OF JASPER HOLT
THE GIRL FROM MONTANA
LO, MICHAEL
THE MAN OF THE DESERT
MARCIA SCHUYLER
PHOEBE DEANE
THE RED SIGNAL
TOMORROW ABOUT THIS TIME
THE TRYST
THE WITNESS
NOT UNDER THE LAW
RE-CREATIONS
THE WHITE FLOWER
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS
GROSSET & DUNLAP _Publishers_ NEW YORK
LOUISE PLATT HAUCK'S
THRILLING ROMANCES
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list.
LIFE, LOVE AND JEANETTE
This story takes Jeanette Brokaw through the ecstasy of first love and
the joys and responsibilities of wifehood and motherhood; it leads her,
through dark waters, to permanent happiness.
THE STORY OF NANCY MEADOWS
There was true love between Nancy and Dwight, but her aloofness and his
susceptibility to women wrought havoc with their marriage.
THE PINK HOUSE
A fresh and gay love story of a girl who meets financial and emotional
disaster with her head up and her heart high.
THE WIFEHOOD OF JESSICA
Jessica was swept from her feet by Bill's tempestuous wooing. But
married life was far different from her dreams. A novel of human
emotions.
TWO TOGETHER
A glamorous story of young love, its tenderness shot with bright threads
of gayety, its romance spiced with whimsicality.
SYLVIA
Lovely Sylvia was the victim of unrequited affection, so she sought the
High Mountain Peaks in which to heal her broken heart.
WILD GRAPE
A story of the Ozark Mountains which gives the reader glimpses of life
touched with mysticism, alive with romance but elemental in its
simplicity.
ANNE MARRIES AGAIN
An attractive young widow marries a second time and learns that all
marriages demand compromises and sacrifices.
PRINCE OF THE MOON
Page Copeland, nineteen, left her home in St. Joseph, Missouri, to visit
a well-to-do family in Kansas City, and encountered Romance.
GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers NEW YORK