IN WHICH PHIL VISITS PARADISE, AND FIRES AT AN INDIAN.
Ella raised the torch, and gazed earnestly into the face of Mr.
Mellowtone.
"Father!" exclaimed she, springing into his arms.
I took the torch from her hand, utterly confounded by the scene. I
could not see how Mr. Mellowtone could be the father of Miss Gracewood,
for I knew enough of the customs of society to be aware that the
daughter bore the parent's name. They wept and sobbed in each other's
arms, and I was so touched that I could not help crying, too.
"You are but little changed, Ella," said the father. "Only a little
taller."
He stepped back and gazed at her, as if to note the change which time
had wrought in her.
"And you don't look any older than when we parted; how well I remember
it!" replied Ella, her pretty face lighted up with joy. "Only your
clothes are different."
Mr. Mellowtone wore the costume of the woods--a blue hunting-shirt, or
frock, over pants stuffed into the tops of his boots, with a felt hat.
"I suppose, if I wore my black clothes, you would see no change at all
in me," replied the father. "But I will help you unload your flour,
Phil Farringford."
"I am in no hurry," I answered.
"Let us do it at once."
I handed the torch to Ella again, and we rolled the heavy barrel to the
ground.
"How funny it looks to see you doing such work, father!" said she,
laughing.
"But I am my own cook and my own servant. I chop my own wood, and shoot
my own dinner. You shall go to my island home to-morrow, and I think we
shall be very happy there."
"You needn't do anything more, Mr. Mellowtone," I interposed, when he
was going to help unload the rest of the goods. "You can go into the
house, and talk with your daughter."
"Why do you call him Mr. Mellowtone?" asked Ella. "That is not his
name."
"It is the name by which I am known here in the forest," added he.
"But your name is Henry Gracewood."
"And you may call me so, Phil Farringford, in future," said Mr.
Mellowtone. "My own name sounds strange to me now. I changed it to
escape impertinent questions which might possibly be put to me."
Father and daughter entered the Castle, and seated themselves before
the blazing fire. I rolled the barrel of flour into the store-room,
between the house and the barn. Disposing of the rest of the articles I
had bought in their proper places, my work was finished for the night.
"I will go to the block house now, Mr. Gracewood," I remarked, not
wishing to intrude myself upon the happy father and child in the
Castle.
"No, Phil Farringford," replied he; "I shall have no secrets from you
after this, for you have learned enough to make you desire to know
more."
"I don't wish to intrude, sir."
"Sit down, Phil Farringford. Now Matt Rockwood is gone, I shall regard
you both as my children," continued Mr. Gracewood, with more
sprightliness than I had ever seen him exhibit before.
I put some more pitch wood on the fire, and seated myself opposite the
father and daughter, where I could see the glowing faces of both.
"Now, Ella, tell me how you happen to be so far from St. Louis," said
Mr. Gracewood.
"We were going to Portland, Oregon. Mr. Sparkley failed in business,
and lost all his property," replied she.
"Mr. Sparkley is my brother-in-law, Phil," added Mr. Gracewood. "And
you are going with him, Ella?"
"Yes; Mr. Sparkley has a good chance to go into business there."
"Is your--is your mother with him?" asked Mr. Gracewood, with some
embarrassment.
"She is."
I was not a little puzzled by what I heard. My good friend spoke of the
mother of Ella, and I knew that she was his daughter. The mother,
therefore, was his wife, as I reasoned out the problem; but I could not
understand how he happened to be living in the backwoods, away from her
and his child. Mr. Gracewood was silent for a time, and I began to
realize that there was something unpleasant in his family relations,
though the matter was incomprehensible to me.
"I suppose your mother does not speak very kindly of me," said the
father, at last, with considerable emotion.
"I never heard her speak an unkind word of you, father," replied Ella,
promptly; and at the same time her eyes filled with tears.
"I am glad to hear that."
"It is true, father," added the daughter, wiping the tears from her
eyes.
"Don't cry, Ella; all may yet be well. Perhaps I was to blame, in
part."
"You will see mother when she comes back in the steamer--won't you,
father?" pleaded she.
"She may not wish to see me."
"I know she will be glad to see you."
Mr. Gracewood was moody and agitated again. I saw that he was
struggling with his feelings, and I hoped that the gentle words of his
daughter would lead to a reconciliation. She seemed like an angel of
peace to me, as she threw oil upon the troubled waters. But I felt like
an intruder in such a scene, and I left the Castle on the pretence of
attending to the horses. I did not return, feeling that I was not
needed in such an interview. I made up a bed in the block house, and
was about to turn in, when Mr. Gracewood joined me. He told me he had
attended to all the wants of his daughter, and that she would sleep in
the Castle.
"I know you were astonished at what you heard, Phil Farringford," said
he, as we lay down in the block house.
"I was, sir, and I felt very bad when your daughter wept."
"I am afraid, from what Ella says, that I am quite as much to blame as
her mother. Indeed, I had begun to think before that the fault was not
all on her side. When my father died, he left a handsome fortune, which
was divided between my brother and myself. I was educated at one of the
best colleges in the west, and intended to study the profession of law;
but the death of my father placed sufficient wealth in my possession to
enable me to live in luxury without any exertion. I was married, and
for a few years lived very happily.
"I had always been very fond of fishing and hunting, and while in
college I spent all my vacations in camp, on the prairie or in the
forest. After I was graduated, I used to devote two or three months of
the year to these pursuits. When I was married, I was not willing to
forego this luxury,--for such it was to me,--and without going into the
painful details, this subject became a source of difference between us.
I thought my wife was unreasonable, and she thought the same of me. Six
years ago she told me, if I went on my usual excursion, she would leave
me, never to return. I could not believe she was in earnest. I had
reduced the period of my absence to six weeks, and when I returned
found my house closed. Mrs. Gracewood was at the residence of her
brother, Mr. Sparkley. I sent her a note, informing her of my return.
"She wrote me in reply, that if I would promise to abandon my annual
hunting trip, or take her with me, she would come back. I replied that
I would travel with her wherever she desired to go, and at any time
except in June and July, and that a woman was out of place in a camp of
hunters. She positively refused to return or to see me on any other
than her own conditions. I met Ella every week at my own house, where
she came in charge of a servant. Neither of us would yield, and life
was misery to me. The next spring I placed all my property in the hands
of my brother, with instructions to pay my wife an annuity of three
thousand dollars a year, and made a will in favor of my child.
"I had been to this region before, and hunted upon the island where I
now live. To me it was a paradise, and I determined to spend the rest
of my days there. I felt that I had been robbed of all the joys of
existence in the love of my wife and child. Taking the materials for my
house, furniture, a piano, and my library, with a plentiful supply of
stores, I came up the river in a steamer, and have lived here ever
since."
"But didn't you wish to see your daughter?" I asked.
"Very much; but I was afraid that the sight of her would break down my
resolution, and induce me to yield the point for which I had contended.
A kind Providence seems to have sent my child to me, to open and warm
my heart."
"Do you still think you were right?" I asked.
"I do; my annual hunt was life and strength to me for the whole year. I
thought my wife's objections were unkind and unreasonable; but I
believe now, since I have seen Ella, that my manner was not
conciliatory; that I was arbitrary in my refusal. Perhaps, if I had
been kind and gentle, and taken the pains to convince her that my
health required the recreation, she would have withdrawn her
objections. Quarrels, Phil Farringford, oftener result from the manner
of the persons concerned than from irreconcilable differences."
I went to sleep, but I think it was a long night to Mr. Gracewood. When
I waked he had left the block house; but I found him with Ella, at
sunrise, on the bank of the river. He had called her up, and was going
to start at that early hour for Paradise, as he called his island. He
invited me to go up as soon as I could, declaring that there was no
danger from the Indians so long as Kit did not return. I was sorry to
lose my pretty visitor so soon; but she was as impatient to see the
home of her father as he was to have her do so.
[Illustration: MR. GRACEWOOD AND ELLA LEAVE FOR THE ISLAND. Page 114.]
I watched the beautiful boat as Mr. Gracewood pulled up the stream; but
I trembled when I considered the danger of losing my neighbors, for
Ella would not think of remaining long in such a lonely region. I took
care of the horses, and turned them out to feed on the new grass,
believing that they would be better able to take care of themselves in
my absence if the Indians visited the clearing. After breakfast, I
walked down to the landing, where I had a boat, as starting from there
would save me the labor of paddling a mile against the current. I soon
reached the island, and landed upon the lower end. I had taken my rifle
with me, so as to bring down any game I happened to see.
As I walked up the slope of the hill, I discovered in the water, on the
north side of the island, a couple of Indian dugouts. I was alarmed,
and hastened with all speed to the house of my good friend. I heard the
music of his piano, and was assured that the Indians had not yet done
any mischief. I went up to the door, which was wide open. Mr. Gracewood
sat at the instrument, with his pipe in his mouth, inspired by the
melody he was producing. At the same instant I perceived the head of an
Indian at a window behind the pianist. I saw him raise a rifle, as if
to take aim. As quick as my own thoughts, I elevated my own piece and
fired.