The Stranger Welcomed.
Virginia Abbot simply inclined her regal head in returning the stranger's
greeting; then taking up her work again, she sat down by the table, with
her back toward the fire and the newcomer. She had not failed to notice
his look of surprised admiration when introduced to her, and it had
affected her strangely.
Five years previous Mr. Abbot and his young daughter had come to that wild
region entire strangers—the former, a man of gentlemanly bearing,
somewhat past his prime; the latter a wondrously beautiful girl of
fifteen, just budding into womanhood, and with a dignity of mien and
refinement of speech which, together with her beauty, caused the uncouth
inhabitants of the place to regard her with something of awe, and as if
they thought she belonged to an entirely different sphere from them.
Mr. Abbot owned a claim in the gold and silver region there, which he
asserted that he was going to work himself, much to the surprise of the
rough miners, for he was a frail looking man.
He built a small but very convenient house, containing five rooms, which,
with the few elegancies he had brought with him, for his child's sake, and
which proclaimed that the strangers had been accustomed to the luxuries of
life heretofore, became the pride and wonder of the settlement.
The house was painted inside and out; there were carpets upon the floors,
draperies at the windows, vases and ornaments on the mantels, pictures on
the walls. But though all the furnishings were of the simplest and
cheapest, yet, to the rude and unaccustomed people about them, their home
seemed a veritable palace.
Another mystery and evidence of superiority was the grave and
self-contained Chinaman who came with them, and was installed as cook and
servant in general in the small kitchen, and who waited upon the young
lady of the house with so much respect and deference.
Here the father and daughter lived in the utmost seclusion. Virgie never
was seen outside her home unless accompanied by her father or servant, and
Mr. Abbot, when not in the mine, devoted himself wholly to his child.
They made no friends, and did not mingle at all with those about them,
although they were always kind and courteous to every one, and thus won
the respect of every man, woman and child in the hamlet. Mr. Abbot had the
appearance of being much broken in spirit; his countenance wore a look of
habitual sadness, and his abundant hair, so prematurely whitened, plainly
told that some heavy trouble had overtaken him in the past. Nothing could
be learned of their antecedents, where they had lived, or why they were
there, though Chi Lu, the servant, was often plied with questions by the
curious, and thus they were regarded as a trio of very mysterious
personages.
After a year or so, it began to be whispered about that "the governor," as
Mr. Abbot was called, because of the respect in which he was held, had
"struck it rich," in other words, that his claim was proving an unusually
fruitful one, and he was making money rapidly. How this came to be known
it would be hard to say, for he was very uncommunicative, going and coming
to and from his work quietly and unostentatiously, and living in the
simplest manner.
As time passed, Virginia Abbot grew even more beautiful than she was when
she had first come to her mountain home. The bracing air agreed with her,
her health was perfect, while her simple manner of living and her regular
habits were calculated to develop to the utmost every charm, and keep her
strong, and fresh, and beautiful.
Her mind was not allowed to lie dormant, however, for her father attended
most carefully and faithfully to her education, and not only insisted upon
a regular and thorough course of study, but kept her well provided with
the literature of the times, embracing many new books and various papers
and periodicals.
But for more than a year past, Mr. Abbot's health had been failing. The
change, however, was so gradual that Virgie did not observe it until the
disease had fastened itself so firmly upon him that he was beyond all
human aid. The man himself fought against it for months, striving to
prolong his life for the sake of his idolized daughter, although,
personally, the world had no longer any charms for him; but it never
relaxed its fatal hold, and at last, at the time of the opening of our
story, he felt that the time had come for him to give up labor and lay
down all burdens, for he knew that his days were numbered.
The question of providing a home and protection for Virgie had long
agitated his mind.
They had no relations or friends to whom he could confide her. There were
reasons why he was unwilling to appoint a guardian and send her back to
their former home, and so, at last, he resolved to commit her to the care
of his early friend and college mate, Laurence Bancroft, a wealthy
merchant of New York city.
But the matter was to be taken entirely out of his hands, and the
beautiful girl's destiny settled in a way wholly unexpected by either
father or daughter.
* * * * *
When Mr. Heath, the benighted and storm-delayed traveler, threw back his
dripping coat, and seated himself at the invitation of his host, before
the blazing fire, Mr. Abbot thought that he had seldom seen a more
attractive young man.
He was apparently about twenty-five years of age. His dark eyer were full
of intelligence, and fringed with long silken lashes. His features were
clear cut, as if they had been chiseled in marble. A dark brown moustache
shaded, but did not conceal, a sensitive mouth, from which there flashed
the gleam of brilliant teeth whenever he spoke or smiled; his nose was
well formed, and his smooth, rather massive chin betrayed strength of
purpose and decision of character.
His address was very courteous, even fascinating, and his voice possessed
a rich, mellow tone, with a sympathetic ring in it, to which it was a
delight to listen, and which won at once upon the hearts and confidence of
his entertainers.
"You are unfortunate to be obliged to traverse our rough mountain roads on
such a night as this," Mr. Abbot observed, with a shiver, as he drew
nearer the fire, and laid another heavy oaken stick across the glowing
blaze.
"That is true, sir," responded his guest, yet the glance, which he
involuntarily shot at Virgie, bending gracefully over her work, did not
betray an overwhelming sense of his misfortune.
"I am on my way to join a party of sportsmen at Humboldt," he
continued. "I was detained at Virginia city upon a matter of business,
and they went on before, promising to wait there for me until to-morrow
evening."
"Are you traveling on horseback?" Mr. Abbot asked, with some surprise.
"No, sir; but the train on which I started met with an accident this
morning, which was liable to detain it several hours, and being impatient
of the delay, I procured a horse at Oreana, thinking I could easily reach
Humboldt by evening, when I could return it by rail. But the unfortunate
beast sprained his foot on a rolling stone, as I have already told you;
the storm and darkness overtook me, I lost my way, and my courage was just
about failing, when I espied the friendly lights of this settlement, and I
resolved to stop at the first house I came to and ask where I could find
shelter for the night."
Mr. Abbot had been studying the young man's face attentively during this
explanation.
He liked his appearance exceedingly; his countenance was honest and true,
his story straightforward and well told, and some unaccountable impulse
prompted him to take measures to become better acquainted with him.
"If you are going to Humboldt, you should have taken the turn to your left
five miles back on the mountain," he said. "It would be impossible for you
to reach it to-night, even if you could be set right, for you would be
sure to lose your way again in the darkness. The only public house—if you
can call it such—in this region, is at least a mile from here, and far
from inviting or comfortable at that; so allow me, Mr. Heath, to offer
you the hospitality of our home for the night, and to-morrow you can start
afresh and refreshed upon your way."
The young man looked up with a glance of surprise, while a quick flush
mounted to his brow, at this unexpected and rather extraordinary offer,
for he well knew that in a mining district all strangers are regarded with
suspicion if not with positive dislike.
"Sir, you are very kind," he began, casting another glance toward the
lovely maiden by the table, for he had seen her give a quick start at her
father's invitation, "but I fear I should trespass beyond all bounds were
I to accept your offer."
"No, indeed," returned Mr. Abbot, with more of eagerness in his manner
than he was in the habit of betraying over anything. "I could not think of
allowing you to go on in this driving storm, and we can arrange it very
comfortably can we not, Virgie?" turning toward her.
"Yes, sir," was the low though unhesitating reply.
"But I am an entire stranger to you. How dare you take me into your
household? How do you know but that I am a robber or a brigand in
disguise?" queried Mr. Heath, with a twinkle in his fine eyes. But still
he was strongly tempted to accept the friendly offer, not only on account
of the comfort surrounding him, but because he was attracted by the
cultivated gentleman and his charming daughter, both of whom were a great
surprise to him, finding them as he had in that wild region.
"Nay," responded Mr. Abbot, smiling, yet meeting the frank eyes of his
guest steadily, "I think I can vouch for your character as a gentleman
even though you are an utter stranger. Remove your wet garments, I pray,
and make yourself comfortable for the night."
"But my horse," began Mr. Heath, suddenly bethinking himself of the
dripping and suffering animal.
"True. Pardon my thoughtlessness," returned his host, adding, "There is a
small shed attached to our dwelling where he can at least be sheltered.
Virgie, please go and send Chi Lu to assist Mr. Heath."
Virgie immediately arose and left the room, and soon after a diminutive
Chinaman appeared in the doorway, bearing a lighted lantern, and
signifying his readiness to "puttee up te hossee."
Mr. Heath left the house with him, and both were gone some time, attending
to the animal's injured leg and trying to make him as comfortable as
circumstances would allow.
During their absence Virgie, at the suggestion of her father, busied
herself in arranging a supper for the storm-beaten traveler, who upon his
return was greeted by the fumes of steaming coffee, while an appetizing
array of cold meats and other viands was spread upon the table, which had
been drawn up before the fire.
"I fear Miss Abbot is making herself trouble on my account," Mr. Heath
remarked, with a swift and grateful glance at the graceful form and
flushed face that was bending over the glowing coals, where the young girl
was toasting to a delicate brown a slice from a wheaten loaf.
"No, indeed; it is no trouble; and a meal after your long ride in the rain
will not come amiss," Virgie answered, looking up and meeting his fine
eyes for an instant.
She deposited the bread upon a plate, and inviting the young man to be
seated, poured with her own hands a cup of fragrant coffee, which she
placed before him.
She continued to wait upon him with exquisite ease and grace until his
hunger was appeased, which was not soon, for it was a rare pleasure for
him to watch her beautiful and expressive face while he chatted with her
father, sipped his coffee, and ate his toast.
But he finished at length, and then Chi Lu was summoned the table cleared,
and the room restored to its usual order.
Mr. Abbot seldom had met a real gentleman since coming among the
mountains; he had lived chiefly within himself and for his child. But now
he found that he had not lost all interest in the outside world, and he
enjoyed immensely Mr. Heath's account of his travels, and his descriptions
of men and things.
Virgie had not seen her father so bright and animated in all the five
years of their secluded life, and she began to hope that his fears
regarding his failing health were groundless after all. She, too, enjoyed
the young stranger's conversation, although she did not join in it. She
sat by, with her dainty embroidery in her hands, listening, and showing by
her expressive face and shining eyes how rare a pleasure such congenial
society was to her.
But by and by she stole away to her own room, where she lay far into the
night thinking of the handsome stranger—of his eager yet respectful
glances when he looked at her; of the low, rich cadence of his voice when
he spoke to her, and feeling that she should miss him more than she had
ever yet missed anyone during the last five years, when he should go away
on the morrow.
The two men talked some time longer after Virgie left; the Chi Lu was
called again, the pretty lounge was converted into a comfortable bed, and
Mr. Heath was told that the parlor was at his service for the night.
The young man was very thankful for the hearty hospitality of which he had
been the recipient, and felt that he had been extremely fortunate in
finding such a pleasant abiding-place; but, although he was very weary
from his rough and tedious ride over the mountain, he found that slumber
was hard to woo, and he, too, lay awake for long hours, wondering over the
strange experience of the evening, and what hard fate—for hard he felt
sure it must have been—could have driven a cultivated gentleman like Mr.
Abbot, and his peerless daughter, who was so well fitted to shine in the
most brilliant circles of the world, away from the haunts of civilization
into that wilderness, and among the rude, uncultured, uncongenial people
of a mining region.