THREE LITTLE WOMEN’S SUCCESS
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.