A FACE FROM THE PAST.
The party of strangers were slowly winding their way across the plain,
and had arrived within a short distance of the house. The woman gazed
on them through her glass till the man supported on his mule became
quite visible to the naked eye; she then dropped her hand heavily, and
drew a deep breath.
"How white he is! There has been violence. He has fainted. See how his
head falls on the guide's shoulder," she murmured, sweeping a hand
across her eyes as if some dimness had come over them.
The lady was quite alone in her dwelling. The Indian women who acted
as the household servants had gone to the hills in search of berries,
and thus she was compelled to descend and open the door, when a summons
was made by the party whose approach had given her so much anxiety. At
another time, knowing, as she did, the lawless nature of the population
around, she would have allowed the besiegers to knock unanswered, and
go away at their leisure; but now she descended the stairs, trembling
violently as she went. She had thrown a black silk scarf over her
head, thus giving her dress a Spanish effect, and, unclosing the door,
stood framed in the opening--and a more remarkable picture was never
presented in the wilderness of any country. It was not that the woman
was so beautiful, in fact, but the color of her hair and the wild
anxiety in her eyes gave that to her person which no artist could ever
have caught. The guide, who had come in advance of his party, stepped
back in amazement as she presented herself, for it was seldom that the
people of the region had obtained a glimpse of her person, and her
presence took him by surprise.
The party were now within a few minutes' ride of the ranche, and a
weary, travel-soiled band it was. The mules were stained far above
their fetlocks with yellow mud, through which they had floundered
all day long; and the travelers, in their slouched hats, rude, blue
flannel shirts, and heavy boots, engulfing the nether garments to the
knees, were liberally bespattered with the same compound. The mules
were huddled close together, for one of the riders was supporting the
wounded man on his saddle; the other had dismounted when the guide left
him, and was leading the sick man's mule, while his own tired beast
followed submissively in the wake of the party.
Before the guide had recovered from his astonishment sufficiently to
address the lady, who seemed perfectly unconscious of his presence, the
party halted in front of the veranda.
The two gentlemen sprung forward to assist their companion, who lay
helpless in his saddle, his head falling upon the shoulder of the man
that supported him. With the assistance of the guides he was removed
from the mule and carried up the steps of the veranda. They laid
him upon a bench under the windows, then the two companions of the
insensible man turned toward the lady.
She had not stirred; her eyes were fastened upon the motionless figure
over which the guides were bending with rough solicitude; the strained,
eager look in her face seemed to demand an explanation which her lips
had no power to frame.
The two gentlemen moved toward her, struck, even in that moment of
anxiety, by her appearance, and saluted her with the courtesy which
proved their station and high-breeding.
"We owe you a thousand apologies, madam," said the foremost, "for this
abrupt proceeding; but our friend here had a hurt."
She started at his words, instinctively drew the folds of the mantle
more closely about her face, and said, quickly:
"No apology is necessary; in this region strangers consider themselves
at home in every house."
"I thought you'd say so, ma'am," said one of the guides, approaching
and looking curiously at her. "I s'pose Mr. Yates ain't to hum."
"No; I believe he is at the mines," she answered; then added quickly,
pointing to the injured man: "Has he fainted?"
"You see he got a fall," answered the guide, before either of the
gentlemen could speak, "a-coming over that rough pass on the mountain;
but I think he's only stunted like."
"I am afraid his arm is broken," said the elder gentleman.
The lady hurried toward the injured man; her face was turned away, so
that none of the party could see how ghastly it became. She bent over
the still form, dextrously cut open the sleeve of his coat with a pair
of scissors which she drew from her pocket, and took the injured limb
between her trembling hands.
"It is only a sprain," she said; "the agony and the shock have been too
much for him."
"He bore it very well at first," said the gentleman who had followed
her; "but fainted quite suddenly, just as we got down into the valley."
The lady made him no answer; she directed the guides where to find
water and spirits. Going into the house herself, she brought out a
large napkin, which she saturated with water, and bound upon the
wounded arm.
While she was bending over him, the man gave signs of returning
consciousness. She started back, and shrouded her face completely in
the mantle.
"Laurence," called one of his friends, stooping over him, "are you
better?"
There was a faint murmur; the injured man raised his head, but it sunk
back, and he was insensible again.
"Is there no physician near?" demanded the gentleman. "I am very
anxious. He is not strong, like the rest of us."
"You will find one at Wilson's ranche," replied the lady.
"How far is that?"
"Good seven miles," answered the guide.
"It will take so long to get him here," exclaimed the first speaker.
"Your best way will be to go there," observed the lady, coldly.
The whole party turned toward her in astonishment; hospitality is the
chief virtue of wild countries, and it was an unparalleled thing in the
experience of those old guides, to hear a woman so coolly turning a
stranger, sick or injured, from her door.
"My dear madam," pleaded the gentleman, "he can not ride; it will be
dangerous--death, perhaps."
"He will come to himself, shortly," she answered. "I assure you I have
proposed the best mode. I do not mean it unkindly. Heaven knows how
sorry I am."
The eldest guide absolutely whistled, and the men stared at each other,
while she busied herself over Laurence, although her whole frame shook
so violently that she could scarcely stand.
"Can't you give us a bed for our friend?" asked the gentleman. "The
rest of us will sleep anywhere, or go away altogether."
"No--no," she replied, hastily; "you must ride on, I say."
"Wal, I'm shot if ever I heerd the beat of that!" muttered a guide.
"The road from here is very good," she continued; "your friend will
suffer little; these men can easily make a litter and carry him."
"He's coming to," whispered the other gentleman.
The woman stepped quickly back, and when she saw the injured man open
his eyes, retreated into the room.
"How are you now, Laurence?" asked his friends, bending over him.
"Better, I think; I am dizzy, but my arm isn't so very painful. Did I
faint?"
While they answered his questions, the guides held a grumbling
consultation, and finally summoned the elder gentleman to the
conference.
"What'll we do?" they asked. "It'll be pitch dark afore long, and that
fellar can't set his horse."
"I will speak to the lady again," he answered. "I am sure she can not
turn us out."
"It's a queer house," said the head guide, "and that's the fact. There
ain't a place in Californy I wouldn't ruther stop at."
"I s'pose that's Yates's wife," said the man who had first reached the
house. "As often as I've passed here, I never seed her afore."
"'Tisn't often she shows herself," replied the leader. "But will you go
and speak to her?" he added, turning to the gentleman.
"Certainly; of course she will permit us to stay."
He went into the house, but the lady was not visible. He opened the
door of an inner room, and there she stood, wringing her hands in
wild distress. She turned at the sound of his footstep, and demanded,
angrily:
"What do you wish more? I have done all that I can for your friend."
"I have come to urge you to give us one night's lodging," he said; "it
seems impossible for us to go on--"
"You must," she said, interrupting him passionately; "you must!"
"This is very singular," he said, so startled by her manner that he
was almost inclined to believe her insane. "In the name of humanity, I
ask--"
She stopped him with an impatient gesture, went close to him, and
grasped his arm.
"I tell you," she whispered, "this place is not safe for you; get on
toward Wilson's as fast as your mules can carry you."
"Surely you can not mean--"
"No matter what! Sir, I ask you, for my sake, a poor, defenseless
woman, to go! I have done all for your friend that is in my power; you
only endanger his life--mine too, by staying here."
He bowed, stupefied by her words.
"Certainly," he said; "after that I can not urge you."
"I knew you would not; only go--don't wait an instant!"
She spoke with feverish haste, and her whole appearance was that of a
person driven to the verge of distraction by fear and anxiety.
"I can give you food," she added, "or spirits--"
"Thank you; we have every thing with us that will be necessary."
"Then go! Your road leads by the river--keep that napkin about his arm
wet with water, and he will do very well."
She motioned him away with wild energy. He saw the insane dread in
her eyes, left the room without a word, and joined the party upon the
veranda.
"Do we stay?" demanded the guides.
The gentleman shook his head, and, without waiting to hear their angry
expostulations, moved toward his friend.
Laurence was sitting up, and, although still very pale, looked stronger
and greatly recovered.
"Could you ride a few miles further, Ned?" he asked.
"Possibly; but can't we stay here?"
"No--no; there's a deuced mystery about the whole matter! But we must
start, or I believe that woman will go crazy; don't let's wait a
moment, if you can manage to get on to your mule."
The lady's strange anxiety had infected him; he felt an unaccountable
eagerness to leave that quiet old house far behind, and would rather
have spent the whole night in the woods than again encounter the
frenzied pleading of her eyes.
In a few moments, their preparations were concluded. Laurence was
seated upon his mule in the most commodious manner that could be
devised, and the party rode slowly off down the valley, the guides
looking back with muttered execrations as long as the old house was in
sight.
From an upper window the woman watched them start, shivering and white,
with her hands pressed hard against her lips to keep back the moans
that shuddered from her heart.
As the cavalcade reached a turn in the road, and began to disappear
from her sight, she extended her arms with a low cry:
"Laurence! Laurence!"
The words were pronounced in a whisper, but to her affrighted senses
they sounded strangely clear. She cowered into a seat, and covered her
face with her hands. No tears fell from her eyes; she could not even
weep--could only sit there, trembling at every sound, looking eagerly
out to be certain that the travelers had indeed disappeared, then
glancing up the valley, as if expecting each moment to see some one
approach by the path which led from the mountains.