After journey long and wearisome, he
Reached the Crescent City and the home of
Colonel Vail. The aged man now mellowed
By weight of years, remorseful, mourning
And alone, received him kindly, answered:
“Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he was
Murdered by a Mexican upon the
Dock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake.
The man who loved my daughter came and found her
Dying. ’Twas he who took the child away,
And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had the
Story of her life--her name was Zola
Blake.
With heavy heart he homeward turned, yet
No less loyal to his Zola. With sad
Misgivings waited for the coming of
The ship--long overdue--by stormy sea
Kept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; he
Must go and bear the tidings that would solve
The mystery of her name, but leave a
Darker shadow than before. Still would she
Refuse his name they would go away from
Palomar. They at the rancho, left so
Happily, what would he say to them? At
Last with tattered sail and broken, came
The ship. He hastening, learned that it would
Lay at anchor there yet two days more in
Mending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire to
Linger there, again he visited the
Hospital where Zola’s mother died; but
As before, no voice could answer aught of
Her; yet caught a thread of hope--an aged
Priest in near-by parish _might_ remember.
The father heard him,--listened eagerly;
Then in his book of records found the date
When Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed;
And the christening of her daughter--their child.
Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola,
The treasure he had brought from Mexico,
Lola’s diary, presents he had given,
And a miniature of Cedric done by
Her own hand; then to the house where they were
Married and her resting place. Gilbert took
The proof to Colonel Vail and together
They rejoiced. He begged that he would bring his
Grandchild there when they were wed, and Cedric
Vaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that true
Man. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attuned
By hope’s fruition, Nature brought a new
Glad song. The bird notes rang with sweeter
Melody--sunshine brighter--bluer skies--
Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’s
Depth, he read the mirrored light of love and
Joy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath a
Tropic sun,--in calm, or fog, or buffeted
By winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’
The mild Pacific’s purple haze, Point
Loma came in view and then, across the
Mesa, to the hacienda, _home again_.
With mysterious air, and teasing told,
Or partly told the story. Yes; he had
Found a fairy queen and when again the
Great round moon came o’er the mountain top, she,
Riding on its silvery beams, would come in
State,--would come with him--come to the rancho.
They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, wait
Patiently. So he left them wondering.