a bit and have a talk together.” But Libby had another idea in her mind
and curtly dismissed him. Then she ran swiftly to the spring, for the
words “The Doc will tell ye so, too” were ringing in her ears. The
doctor who came with the two beautifully dressed women! HE--would tell
her she was pretty! She had not dared to look at herself in that crystal
mirror since that dreadful day two months ago. She would now.
It was a pretty place in the cool shade of the giant trees, and the
hoof-marks of cattle drinking from the run beneath the pool had not
disturbed the margin of that tranquil sylvan basin. For a moment she
stood tremulous and uncertain, and then going up to the shining mirror,
dropped on her knees before it with her thin red hands clasped on her
lap. Unconsciously she had taken the attitude of prayer; perhaps there
was something like it in her mind.
And then the light glanced full on the figure that she saw there!
It fell on a full oval face and throat guileless of fleck or stain,
smooth as a child's and glowing with health; on large dark eyes, no
longer sunk in their orbits, but filled with an eager, happy light; on
bared arms now shapely in contour and cushioned with firm flesh; on a
dazzling smile, the like of which had never been on the face of Liberty
Jones before!
She rose to her feet, and yet lingered as if loath to part from this
delightful vision. Then a fear overcame her that it was some trick of
the water, and she sped swiftly back to the house to consult the little
mirror which hung in her sleeping-room, but which she had never glanced
at since the momentous day of the spring. She took it shyly into the
sunshine, and found that it corroborated the reflection of the spring.
That night she worked until late at the calico Doctor Ruysdael had sent
her, and went to bed happy. The next day brought her Hoskins again with
a feeble excuse of inquiring if she had a letter for the doctor, and
she was surprised to find that he was reinforced by a stranger from
Hoskins's farm, who was equally awkward and vaguely admiring. But the
appearance of the TWO men produced a singular phase in her impressions
and experience. She was no longer indignant at Hoskins, but she found
relief in accepting the compliments of the stranger in preference,
and felt a delight in Hoskins's discomfiture. Waya, promoted to
the burlesque of a chaperone, grinned with infinite delight and
understanding.
When at last the day came for the doctor's arrival, he was duly met by
Hoskins, and as duly informed by that impressible subordinate of the
great change in Liberty's appearance. But the doctor was far from being
equally impressed with his factor's story, and indeed showed much more
interest in the appearance of the stock which they met along the road.
Once the doctor got out of the wagon to inspect a cow, and particularly
the coat of a rough draught horse that had been turned out and put under
Liberty's care. “His skin is like velvet,” said the doctor. “The girl
evidently understands stock, and knows how to keep them in condition.”
“I reckon she's beginning to understand herself, too,” said Hoskins.
“Golly! wait till ye see HER.”
The doctor DID see her, but with what feelings he did not as frankly
express. She was not at the cabin when they arrived, but presently
appeared from the direction of the spring where, for reasons of her
own, she had evidently made her toilet. Doctor Ruysdael was astounded;
Hoskins's praise was not exaggerated; and there was an added charm
that Hoskins was not prepared for. She had put on a gown of her own
making,--the secret toil of many a long night,--amateurishly fashioned
from some cheap yellow calico the doctor had sent her, yet fitting her
wonderfully, and showing every curve of her graceful figure. Unaccented
by a corset,--an article she had never known,--even the lines of the
stiff, unyielding calico had a fashion that was nymph-like and suited
her unfettered limbs. Doctor Ruysdael was profoundly moved. Though a
philosopher, he was practical. He found himself suddenly confronted not
only by a beautiful girl, but a problem! It was impossible to keep
the existence of this woodland nymph from the knowledge of his
distant neighbors; it was equally impossible for him to assume the
responsibility of keeping a goddess like this in her present position.
He had noticed her previous improvement, but had never dreamed that pure
and wholesome living could in two months work such a miracle. And he
was to a certain degree responsible, HE had created her,--a beautiful
Frankenstein, whose lustrous, appealing eyes were even now menacing his
security and position.
Perhaps she saw trouble and perplexity in the face where she had
expected admiration and pleasure, for a slight chill went over her as
he quickly praised the appearance of the stock and spoke of her own
improvement. But when they were alone, he turned to her abruptly.
“You said you had no wish to go to San Jose?”
“No.” Yet she was conscious that her greatest objection had been
removed, and she colored faintly.
“Listen to me,” he said dryly. “You deserve a better position than
this,--a better home and surroundings than you have here. You are older,
too,--a woman almost,--and you must look ahead.”
A look of mingled fright, reproach, and appeal came into her eloquent
face. “Yer wantin' to send me away?” she stammered.
“No,” he said frankly. “It is you who are GROWING away. This is no
longer the place for you.”
“But I want to stay. I don't wanter go. I am--I WAS happy here.”
“But I'm thinking of giving up this place. It takes up too much of my
time. You must be provided”--
“YOU are going away?” she said passionately.
“Yes.”
“Take me with you. I'll go anywhere!--to San Jose---wherever you go.
Don't turn me off as dad did, for I'll foller you as I never followed
dad. I'll go with you--or I'll die!”
There was neither fear nor shame in her words; it was the outspoken
instinct of the animal he had been rearing; he was convinced and
appalled by it.
“I am returning to San Jose at once,” he said gravely. “You shall go
with me--FOR THE PRESENT! Get yourself ready!”
He took her to San Jose, and temporarily to the house of a patient,--a
widow lady,--while he tried, alone, to grapple with the problem that now
confronted him. But that problem became more complicated at the end of
the third day, by Liberty Jones falling suddenly and alarmingly ill.
The symptoms were so grave that the doctor, in his anxiety, called in
a brother physician in consultation. When the examination was over, the
two men withdrew and stared at each other.
“Of course there is no doubt that the symptoms all point to slow
arsenical poisoning,” said the consulting doctor.
“Yes,” said Ruysdael quickly, “yet it is utterly inexplicable, both as
to motive and opportunity.”
“Humph!” said the other grimly, “young ladies take arsenic in minute
doses to improve the complexion and promote tissue, forgetting that the
effects are cumulative when they stop suddenly. Your young friend has
'sworn off' too quickly.”
“But it is impossible,” said Doctor Ruysdael impatiently. “She is a mere
child--a country girl--ignorant of such habits.”
“Humph! the peasants in the Tyrol try it on themselves after noticing
the effect on the coats of cattle.”
Doctor Ruysdael started. A recollection of the sleek draught horse
flashed upon him. He rose and hastily re-entered the patient's room. In
a few moments he returned. “Do you think I could remove her at once to
the mountains?” he said gravely.
“Yes, with care and a return to graduated doses of the same poison; you
know it's the only remedy just now,” answered the other.
By noon the next day the doctor and his patient had returned to the
cabin, but Ruysdael himself carried the helpless Liberty Jones to the
spring and deposited her gently beside it. “You may drink now,” he said
gravely.
The girl did so eagerly, apparently imbibing new strength from the
sparkling water. The doctor meanwhile coolly filled a phial from the
same source, and made a hasty test of the contents by the aid of some
other phials from his case. The result seemed to satisfy him. Then he
said gravely:
“And THIS is the spring you had discovered?”
The girl nodded.
“And you and the cattle have daily used it?”
She nodded again wonderingly. Then she caught his hand appealingly.
“You won't send me away?”
He smiled oddly as he glanced from the waters of the hill to the
brimming eyes. “No.”
“No-r,” tremulously, “go away--yourself?”
The doctor looked this time only into her eyes. There was a tremendous
idea in his own, which seemed in some way to have solved that dreadful
problem.
“No! We will stay here TOGETHER.”
*****
Six months later there was a paragraph in the San Francisco press: “The
wonderful Arsenical Spring in the Santa Cruz Mountain, known as 'Liberty
Spring,' discovered by Doctor Ruysdael, has proved such a remarkable
success that we understand the temporary huts for patients are to be
shortly replaced by a magnificent Spa Hotel worthy of the spot, and the
eligible villa sites it has brought into the market. It will be a source
of pleasure to all to know that the beautiful nymph--a worthy successor
to the far-famed 'Elise' of the German 'Brunnen'--who has administered
the waters to so many grateful patients will still be in attendance,
although it is rumored that she is shortly to become the wife of the
distinguished discoverer.”