Gilbert, sleepless, counted yet the slowly
Dragging hours--three more days, and then
The promised one; pondered o’er the words of
That strange man on Palomar,--words so oft
Repeated: “If she be here, then you may
Speak with her.” “_If she be here!_” Their meaning--
His intention--dawned upon him. “She will
_Not be there!_” In frantic haste he rose and
Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and
Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks;
His adolescent blood in angry throbs,
His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across
The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita
Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early
Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric.
On the slope he saw the tethered burros,
Well-filled packs and camping equipage near
By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing
Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters
Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’
He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric
Placing bars before the door, and Zola
By his side. At sight of him came bounding
Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head
Uncovered--bowed, as one in reverential
Attitude before a shrine--addressed her:
“We have been acquainted long, if not by
Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two
Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter,
He may tell you of his promise--explain
The breaking--doubting not his motive, I
Believe him kind and true.”
“_Calls you daughter!_”
Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor
Swept across his kindly face. The time had
Come when he must speak--must tell the secret
Of his life--her life. Then he recited
All that he remembered,--Zola’s unknown
Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that
She be taken; how he had suffered with
The dread of making known to her that he
Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man
Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion
Setting all aside, she sprang to him and
Clinging, cried: “_He is my own dear father!_”
Her dazzling beauty now intensified.
As one enchanted, Gilbert looked upon
The scene; such filial love revealed a depth
Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those
Who called him son--what they had done for him--
And of the promise he had made to them.
Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride
Of name and family might they not spurn
This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed
His love for her was satisfied; fortune,
Name and family were all as naught to
Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked
Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and
Winning, give to her his name.
“No, no,” she
Answered for the father, “until this cloud
Is lifted--mystery solved--my name is
Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in
On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he
Had promised would he go back to the states
And seek a bride, solve the mystery and
Return triumphant, claim her--his Zola--
As his bride. Would take the ship now in
The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave
The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory
Yielded meagerly of information
Needed. He well remembered all his life
_Up to_ the day that he left Lola at
Her father’s home, and _from_ the day she died,
The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank.
Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this
Day your life shall be a pattern for my
Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are
Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and
Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held
Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long
Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed
Him aside and whispered: “The father, if
He be found, pray name her not to him.” From
The mountain top she watched him out of sight;
Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s
Daughter wept.
When their only son went forth
To seek a bride--to keep his vow--there was
Great rejoicing at the Gilbert rancho.