That night the diminutive lamp that did duty in the room assigned to
the two brothers burned till long past the hour of midnight. By its
dim light, Ned Rutherford indited a letter to his fiancee, while his
brother quietly paced back and forth, the entire length of the small
apartment, his hands clasped behind him and his head thrown back,--his
usual attitude when in deep thought.
"Getting up another article on the application of electric force?"
inquired Ned, as he paused to watch his brother.
"No," was the reply, "I am thinking at present of a force far more
subtle and more powerful than that of electricity."
"Why, how's that?" asked Ned in surprise, "I thought electricity was
one of your pet hobbies."
"Never mind about my pet hobbies," said his brother, with a smile,
"just continue your writing for the present."
Half an hour later, as Ned folded and sealed the voluminous letter,
and placed upon it the long, foreign address, his brother, watching
him with a curious half smile, said:
"I shall have to give you credit for a great deal of constancy, Ned,
more than I really supposed you possessed."
"How's that?" asked Ned, with a slight blush, "to what do you refer."
"To your fidelity to your affianced," Morton replied, "under the rather
adverse circumstances that attend your suit, and notwithstanding
the unusual attractions by which you have been surrounded here."
"Well, as to that," said Ned, slowly, "I don't know as I deserve so
very much credit. Houston appropriated Miss Gladden to himself pretty
soon after we came here, and besides, she isn't exactly my style,
after all; she would suit Houston a great deal better than me."
"Ah," said his brother, quietly, "and what of the younger lady?
Perhaps she is not your style, either?"
"Well, no, I should say not," Ned replied, with the least perceptible
scorn in his tone, "not but what she is a lovely girl, and I respect
her, and feel sorry for her, but I should think one glimpse of her
family would decide that question, once for all."
"Ned," said Morton Rutherford, pausing in his walk, directly in front
of his brother, "is it possible that you are so blind as not to see
that Miss Maverick, as you call her,--I prefer to call her Lyle,--has
no connection whatever with the family in which she lives?"
"Do you think so?" Ned inquired, with surprise, "I remember Houston
and Miss Gladden expressed the same opinion when I was here before,
but I don't think they had any proof that such was the case, and even
if it were so, I don't see how it helps the matter much, for nobody
knows to what sort of a family she really does belong."
"Ned," said his brother, indignantly, "I know nothing of the opinion
of Houston or Miss Gladden upon this subject, but where are your own
eyes, and where is your reason? If you discovered one of the rarest
and most beautiful flowers known to exist in the plant world, in a
heap of tailings out here among these mines, would you immediately
conclude that, because you had found it there, it must be indigenous
to the spot? Look at that girl, and tell me if there is one trace in
feature, in form, in manner, or in speech, of plebeian blood, and then
will you tell me that she is in any way connected with people such as
these? They are not merely plebeian, they are low, debased, criminal.
They are criminals of the deepest dye, not only capable of any
villainy, but already guilty, and to such a degree that their guilt
has made them shrinking, skulking cowards."
"But, Mort, if you are correct, and I don't say that you are not, how
does she come to be in such a place as this, with no memory of
anything different?"
"Through the villainy of that man whom you pointed out to me as her
father; through his villainy, and in no other way."
"You think she was stolen?"
"I do; I can see in his face that he has committed some terrible
crime,--perhaps many of them,--and he is afraid to look a stranger in
the eye; and a glance at that beautiful girl is enough to fasten upon
him one of his crimes. She is from a family whose blood is as pure
from any taint, physical, mental, or moral, as is your own, and unless
I am greatly mistaken, she is not wholly unconscious of this
herself."
"Great Heavens!" exclaimed the younger brother, "I never dreamed of
all this! If it is really as you think, I only wish we could find her
true home, and have her restored to it, and make that scoundrel suffer
for his crime."
"If it is among the possibilities, it shall be done," said Morton
Rutherford, quietly, but in a tone which startled Ned with its volume
of meaning. The latter looked up in quick surprise, a question on his
lips, but he knew his brother's face too well; the question was not
asked, and he only said:
"Good for you, Mort, and here's my hand; I'm with you on this,
whatever you do."
For the next few days, nothing of any special import occurred at the
camp. Houston, soon after the arrival of Morton and Ned Rutherford,
had written to his uncle that preparations were now about completed,
and everything was so nearly in readiness that he and his party had
better come out immediately to one of the western cities, from which
they could be summoned by telegraph on short notice. Accordingly, Mr.
Cameron had already left New York, and in company with his attorney
and the English expert, was now on his way west, Mrs. Cameron also
accompanying him as far west as Chicago, where she was to stop with
friends while he went on to the mines, as she had insisted that she
would feel much happier to be nearer her husband and Everard, so that
she could more easily reach them in the event of any trouble at the
mines.
Van Dorn was progressing well with his work, and the machine would
soon be ready for its trial test, though he said he would in all
probability first have to go to Silver City, in order to have replaced
one or two small but important parts which had been broken in the
long, westward journey.
Lyle, in the midst of the strange happiness which had lately come to
her heart, had not forgotten her resolve to search for the proofs, of
such importance to her. On the contrary, she had now a new and
powerful incentive which gave additional zest to her efforts,
although, thus far, they had proved unsuccessful.
One afternoon, after having made a particularly thorough but fruitless
search, she stole quietly out of the house, and following the little
path along the shore of the lake, soon found herself in her favorite
retreat among the rocks, a secluded place from which there was no sign
of human habitation; only the mountains in their vast solitudes were
visible, their silent grandeur more eloquent than words. It was a spot
that she had loved even in her childhood, and which had, in later
years, been her resort for study and reflection.
In a brief interview with Jack, at the cabin, the previous evening,
she had told him of her increasingly distinct recollections of her
mother, of the angry words between Maverick and his wife which she had
overheard, and of her search which she felt would yet result in her
obtaining possession of the necessary proofs of her identity.
To her surprise, Jack, while commending the course which she was
taking, yet seemed strangely averse to talking much with her upon the
subject. At last, as she was leaving the cabin, he had taken her hands
in his, saying, in a strangely tender tone:
"My dear Lyle, because I say little, you must not think I take no
interest in this affair which concerns you so closely. I am deeply
interested, more deeply than you will probably ever know, but it is
for many reasons a painful subject to me, one full of bitter memories;
but I have one favor to ask of you, my dear child, which I know you
will grant for the sake of the memory of the happy hours we have spent
together,--it is this; that whatever proof you may succeed in finding,
you will first bring to me."
"Certainly I will, dear Jack," Lyle had replied, wondering at his
manner, "in whom should I confide if not in you, who have been my
first and best friend."
And he, his dark, piercing eyes looking into the depths of her own,
their gaze softened by tender affection, had replied:
"Yes, your friend always, Lyle, remember that; none truer or more
devoted to you or your welfare; but before long, my dear, your heart
will learn, if it has not learned already, the difference between
friendship and love."
With burning cheeks and tearful eyes Lyle recalled his words, and
pondered deeply on the strange bond that seemed, in some way, to exist
between his life and hers, but the longer she tried to solve the
problem, the deeper and more obscure it seemed.
In the midst of her reflections, she heard a light step upon the rocky
footpath, and looking up, saw Morton Rutherford approaching. So
absorbed was he in the study of the masses of rock about him, on which
had been traced by the finger of the centuries, in wonderful
hieroglyphics, the early history of the earth, that for a time he was
unconscious of her presence there. When he saw her he raised his hat
and came quickly forward.
"I beg your pardon," he said, in deep, musical tones, "I supposed
myself alone with my own thoughts; am I intruding? if so, send me away
at once."
"No, stay, if you please," said Lyle.
"Thank you," he answered, seating himself on the rocks at a little
distance, "you appeared so lost in thought I feared my coming might
annoy you."
"No," she replied, "my thoughts were too perplexing, I was growing
weary of them."
Mr. Rutherford glanced at the surrounding mountains; "Were you, too,
trying to fathom the mystery of the eternal hills?" he asked.
"No," was her reply, "I have never attempted anything so far beyond me
as that; I have found more mysteries in every-day, human life than I
could solve."
Morton Rutherford was silent for a few moments, then he said in low
tones:
"I hope you will pardon me when I say, that to me, your own life here,
under the existing circumstances and conditions, is a mystery, one
which seems capable of but one solution."
"And what would be your solution?" she asked quickly.
He saw that she understood his meaning, and was watching him intently,
eagerly, and he said:
"Permit me to reply to your question by asking one in return. Do you
not believe that your life had a beginning elsewhere than here, and
under far different conditions?"
"It is more than a belief with me, it is a certainty, and yet, strange
as it may appear to you, this knowledge has come to me but recently,
and even now, I know nothing of what those conditions may have been,
except that they were totally unlike these that exist here."
"You interest me very much are you willing to tell me how you arrived
at this knowledge of which you speak?"
Very briefly, and without going into details, Lyle, in response to the
magnetic sympathy of those dark eyes, gave a vivid outline of her
life, and of the vague impressions which of late were becoming
distinct recollections, and of her hope of soon finding tangible
evidence regarding the life which was daily growing more and more of a
reality.
Mr. Rutherford listened with intense interest to the strange story,
and when she had finished, he said slowly, as he took a short turn up
and down the rocky path:
"Believe me, I have not listened to this through mere, idle curiosity;
much as your story has interested me, it has not surprised me, for I
read the truth almost from our first meeting."
Lyle gave him a smile of rare sweetness and deep significance; "I am
glad to know that," she said simply.
"Why so?" he asked, pausing and seating himself beside her; "Did you
think I could fail to recognize the soul that looked out to welcome me
when I first came, no matter amid what surroundings I found it?" Then,
as she remained silent, he continued, his tones thrilling her heart as
no human voice had ever done before:
"Since the hour that I first met you, Lyle, life has changed for
me,--I think perhaps it will never be quite the same again for either
of us. I know that I love you with a love that, whether reciprocated
or not, can never die; that henceforth, you will be,--you must be,--a
part of my very life. Let me care for you and help you; let me help
you in your search for the home for which you were created, and of
which you are worthy; but, Lyle, before you search any farther for
that home, will you not consent to become the queen of my home, as you
are already the queen of my heart?"
Lyle lifted her head proudly, though the tears glistened on the long,
golden lashes; "Do you ask me that, here and now, knowing nothing as
yet, of what the future may reveal?"
"I do; I have no fear for the future if I but have your love. Do you
think that, perhaps, in the days to come, amid other and different
surroundings, you might find some one whose love your heart would
choose in preference to mine?"
"Never!" cried Lyle, impulsively, turning with outstretched arms to
him, "You are the only one I have ever loved,--the only one I could
ever love!"
"Then that is enough for me," he replied, drawing her closely to his
breast; "you have come forth from the years of the wretched past, with
a soul star-white and shining, and I have no fears for the future."
When the little group of friends assembled that evening, it was not
long before some one discovered that a small diamond ring, of
exquisite, antique design, which Morton Rutherford had worn, had, in
some manner, become transferred to Lyle's hand. "Wear this, for the
present," he had said, in taking it from his own hand, "until I can
obtain a costlier one for you," but Lyle had insisted that once placed
upon her hand, there it must remain, as she would prize it far above
any other which money could buy; and such had been the final
decision.
When this significant fact had been discovered by one of the little
company, the intelligence was speedily telegraphed to the rest, and
Morton and Lyle soon found themselves the recipients of hearty and
affectionate congratulations from the others.
The astonishment depicted on Ned's face, when he comprehended the turn
affairs had taken, was beyond description, but in the little
excitement which prevailed for a few moments, it passed unnoticed, so
that he had sufficiently recovered himself to join very gracefully in
the general congratulations when his turn came.
A few hours later, however, as he went out for a stroll with Van Dorn,
while his brother and Houston started out in the direction of Jack's
cabin, his astonishment found expression.
"Great Scott! but I never was so dumfounded in my life! I tell you
what, Van, I believe people lose their wits when they are in love!"
"On whose experience do you base your highly original remark, your
brother's or your own?"
"Well, both, and lots of others besides. I never yet saw a person who
was in love that didn't act just the reverse of what you would expect,
or of what they would under ordinary circumstances. Now, look at us
two, for instance. Look at me! Everybody calls me rash and impetuous,
and Mort is always lecturing me for it, and it's always my way to rush
head-first into anything that comes along, and here I've been making
love, in the regular, orthodox fashion, to a girl I've known ever
since I wore knickerbockers, and playing propriety and all that to my
prospective father-in-law; and now see Mort! the most precise,
deliberate fellow you ever saw, never says or does anything that isn't
exactly suited to the occasion, you know; and here he goes and tumbles
head over heels in love with a pretty girl the first time he sees her,
and when he doesn't know a blessed thing about her, and, by George!
engages himself to her before he's known her a week! If that isn't a
case of clear-gone lunacy, then I never saw one."
Van Dorn laughed; "Well, of the two, I should prefer your brother's
form of lunacy to yours; if I ever was to be in love, I should want
the misery over as quickly as possible."
As Houston and his friend, having made a brief call at the cabin, rose
to take their leave, the former observed Jack watching Rutherford's
face with a degree of interest unusual for him to manifest in a
stranger.
"I want you and my friend, Rutherford, to know each other the little
time he will be here," he said, addressing Jack, "for though I have
never known what it was to have a brother in reality, he seems to me
to more nearly fill that position than any one I have known, and I
have told him of your kindness and assistance, and the strange bond
that has seemed to unite us from the first, though we met as
strangers, so he naturally wishes to meet you."
There was a peculiar quiver of the lips under the heavy, black beard,
as Jack replied, in deep, full tones, "Mr. Rutherford's face carries
with it its own recommendation, and the fact that he is as a brother
to yourself will insure him a double welcome here as often as he
pleases to come during his stay."
Houston passed onward into the outer room, pausing to chat with Mike,
while Morton Rutherford lingered, and extending his hand to Jack, said
in low tones:
"I have another reason for wishing to meet you. From what Lyle has
told me, I know you to have been, until very recently, her only
friend, and to you, as to her friend, and perhaps, in one sense, her
guardian, I wish to state that I love her, and have been so fortunate
as to win her love in return; and that I hope before very long, my
home will be hers."
"Yes, I know," Jack responded, briefly.
"What! has she already told you?" Rutherford asked in surprise.
"Only unconsciously; but I read soon after your coming, that her heart
was no longer her own."
Then grasping Rutherford's hand warmly, he added, in tones vibrating
with some deep emotion.
"You have chosen better than you know. I believe I can trust her and
her happiness in your hands. God bless you both! and may He bless you
in proportion to your love and fidelity toward her!"