She had already risen, a great, unspeakable joy illumining her face, but
at the sound of that name, vibrating with the pent-up emotion, the
concentrated love of all the years of their separation, she came swiftly
forward, her bosom palpitating, her eyes shining with the love called
forth by his cry. He stepped through the low window, within the room. In
an instant his arms were clasped about her, and, holding her close to
his breast, his dark eyes told her more eloquently than words of his
heart's hunger for her, while in her eyes and in the blushes running
riot in her cheeks he read his welcome.
He kissed her hair and brow, with a sort of reverence; then, hearing
voices in the corridor and rooms adjoining, he seized a light wrap from
a chair near by and threw it about her shoulders.
"Come outside, sweetheart," he whispered, and drawing her arm within his
own led her out onto the veranda and down the path along which he had
just come. In the first transport of their joy they were silent, each
almost fearing to break the spell which seemed laid upon them. The moon
had risen, transforming the sombre scene to one of beauty, but to them
Love's radiance had suddenly made the world inexpressibly fair; the very
flowers as they passed breathed perfume like incense in their path, and
the trees whispered benedictions upon them.
Darrell first broke the silence. "I would have been in Ophir to-night,
but some mysterious, irresistible impulse led me to stop here. Did you
weave a spell about me, you sweet sorceress?" he asked, gazing tenderly
into her face.
"I think it must have been some higher influence than mine," she
replied, with sweet gravity, "for I was also under the spell. I supposed
you many miles away, yet, as I sang to-night, it seemed as though you
were close to me, as though if I turned I should see you--just as I
did," she concluded, with a radiant smile. "But how did you find me?"
"How does the night-bird find its mate?" he queried, in low, vibrant
tones; then, as her color deepened, he continued, with passionate
earnestness,--
"I was here, where we are now, my very soul crying out for you, when I
heard your song. It thrilled me; I felt as though waking from a dream,
but I knew my love was near. Down through the years I heard her soul
calling mine; following that call, I found my love, and listening, heard
the very words which my own heart had been repeating over and over to
itself, alone and in the darkness."
Almost unconsciously they had stopped at a turn in the path. Darrell
paused a moment, for tears were trembling on the golden lashes. Drawing
her closer, he whispered,--
"Kathie, do you remember our parting on the 'Divide'?"
"Do you think I ever could forget?" she asked.
"You predicted we would one day stand reunited on the heights of such
love as we had not dreamed of then. I asked you when that day would be;
do you remember your answer?"
"I do."
He continued, in impassioned tones: "Are not the conditions fulfilled,
sweetheart? My love for you then was as a dream, a myth, compared with
that I bring you to-day, and looking in your eyes I need no words to
tell me that your love has broadened and deepened with the years.
Kathie, is not this 'the time appointed'?"
"It must be," she replied; "there could be none other like this!"
Holding her head against his breast and raising her face to his, he
said, "You gave me your heart that day, Kathie, to hold in trust. I have
been faithful to that trust through all these years; do you give it me
now for my very own?"
"Yes," she answered, slowly, with sweet solemnity; "to have and to hold,
forever!"
He sealed the promise with a long, rapturous kiss; but what followed,
the broken, disjointed phrases, the mutual pledges, the tokens of love
given and received, are all among the secrets which the mountains never
told.
As they retraced their steps towards the hotel, Darrell said, "We have
waited long, sweetheart."
"Yes, but the waiting has brought us good of itself," she answered.
"Think of all you have accomplished,--I know better than you think, for
your father has kept me posted,--and better yet, what these years have
fitted you for accomplishing in the future! To me, that was the best
part of your work in your story. It was strong and cleverly told, but
what pleased me most was the evidence that it was but the beginning, the
promise of something better yet to come."
"If only I could persuade all critics to see it through your eyes!"
Darrell replied, with a smile.
"Do you wish to know," she asked, with sudden seriousness, "what will
always remain to me the noblest, most heroic act of your life?"
"Most assuredly I do," he answered, her own gravity checking the
laughing reply which rose to his lips.
"The fight you made and won alone in the mountains the day that you
renounced our love for honor's sake. I can see now that the stand you
took and maintained so nobly formed the turning-point in both our lives.
I did not look at it then as you did. I would have married you then and
there and gone with you to the ends of the earth rather than sacrifice
your love, but you upheld my honor with your own. You fought against
heavy odds, and won, and to me no other victory will compare with it,
since--
'greater they who on life's battle-field
With unseen foes and fierce temptations fight.'"
Darrell silently drew her nearer himself, feeling that even in this
foretaste of joy he had received ample compensation for the past.
A few days later there was a quiet wedding at the Springs. The beautiful
church on the mountain-side had been decorated for the occasion, and at
an early hour, while yet the robins were singing their matins, the
little wedding-party gathered about the altar where John Darrell Britton
and Kate Underwood plighted their troth for life. Above the jubilant
bird-songs, above the low, subdued tones of the organ, the words of the
grand old marriage service rang out with impressiveness.
Besides the rector and his wife, there were present only Mr. Underwood,
Mrs. Dean, and Mr. Britton. It had been Kate's wish, with which Darrell
had gladly coincided, thus to be quietly married, surrounded only by
their immediate relatives.
"Let our wedding be a fit consummation of our betrothal," she had said
to him, "without publicity, unhampered by conventionalities, so it will
always seem the sweeter and more sacred."
That evening found them all at The Pines, assembled on the veranda
watching the sunset, the old home seeming wonderfully restful and
peaceful to the returned travellers.
The years which had come and gone since Darrell first came to the Pines
told heaviest on Mr. Underwood. His hair was nearly white and he had
aged in many ways, appearing older than Mr. Britton, who was
considerably his senior; but age had brought its compensations, for the
stern, immobile face had softened and the deep-set eyes glowed with a
kindly, beneficent light. Mr. Britton's hair was well silvered, but his
face bore evidence of the great joy which had come into his life, and as
his eyes rested upon his son he seemed to live anew in that glorious
young life. To Mrs. Dean the years had brought only a few silver threads
in the brown hair and an added serenity to the placid, unfurrowed brow.
Calm and undemonstrative as ever, but with a smile of deep content, she
sat in her accustomed place, her knitting-needles flashing and clicking
with their old-time regularity. Duke, who had been left in Mr. Britton's
care during Darren's absence, occupied his old place on the top stair,
but even his five years of added dignity could not restrain him from
occasional demonstrations of joy at finding himself again at The Pines
and with his beloved master and mistress.
As the twilight began to deepen Kate suggested that they go inside, and
led the way, not to the family sitting-room, but to a spacious room on
the eastern side, a room which had originally been intended as a
library, but never furnished as such. It was beautifully decorated with
palms and flowers, while the fireplace had been filled with light boughs
of spruce and fir.
As they entered the room, Kate, slipping her arm within Mr. Britton's,
led him before the fireplace.
"My dear father," she said, "we have chosen this evening as the one most
appropriate for your formal installation in our family circle and our
home. I say formal because you have really been one of ourselves for
years; you have shared our joys and our sorrows; we have had no secrets
from you; but from this time we want you to take your place in our home,
as you did long ago in our hearts. We have prepared this room for you,
to be your _sanctum sanctorum_, and have placed in it a few little
tokens of our love for you and gratitude to you, which we beg you to
accept as such."
She bent towards the fireplace. "The hearthstone is ever an emblem of
home. In lighting the fires upon this hearthstone, we dedicate it to
your use and christen this 'our father's room.'"
The flames burst upward as she finished speaking, sending a resinous
fragrance into the air and revealing a room fitted with such loving
thought and care that nothing which could add to his comfort had been
omitted. Near the centre of the room stood a desk of solid oak, a gift
from Mr. Underwood; beside it a reclining chair from Mrs. Dean, while on
the wall opposite, occupying nearly a third of that side of the room,
was a superb painting of the Hermitage,--standing out in the firelight
with wonderful realism, perfect in its bold outlines and sombre
coloring,--the united gift of his son and daughter, which Darrell had
ordered executed before his departure for Alaska.
With loving congratulations the rest of the group gathered about Mr.
Britton, who was nearly speechless with emotion. As Mr. Underwood wrung
his hand he exclaimed, with assumed gruffness,--
"Jack, old partner, you thought you'd got a monopoly on that boy of
yours, but I've got in on the deal at last!"
"You haven't got any the best of me, Dave," Mr. Britton retorted,
smiling through his tears, "for I've got a share now in the sweetest
daughter on earth!"
"Yes, papa," Kate laughingly rejoined, "there are three of us Brittons
now; the Underwoods are in the minority."
Which, though a new view of the situation to that gentleman, seemed
eminently satisfactory.
Later, as Kate found Darrell at a window, looking thoughtfully out into
the moonlit night, she asked,--
"Of what are you thinking, John?"
"Of what the years have done for us, Kathie; of how much better fitted
for each other we are now than when we first loved."
"Yes," she whispered, as their eyes met, "'God's own good time' was the
best."