IN THE OLD CABIN AGAIN.
There was little difficulty in establishing the validity of Grace
Conroy's claim to the Conroy grant under the bequest of Dr. Devarges.
Her identity was confirmed by Mr. Dumphy--none the less readily that it
relieved him of a distressing doubt about the late Mrs. Dumphy, and did
not affect his claim to the mineral discovery which he had purchased
from Gabriel and his wife. It was true that since the dropping of the
lead the mine had been virtually abandoned, and was comparatively of
little market value. But Mr. Dumphy still clung to the hope that the
missing lead would be discovered.
He was right. It was some weeks after the death of Mr. Hamlin that
Gabriel and Olly stood again beneath the dismantled roof-tree and bare
walls of his old cabin on Conroy Hill. But the visit this time was not
one of confidential disclosure nor lonely contemplation, but with a
practical view of determining whether this first home of the brother and
sister could be repaired and made habitable, for Gabriel had steadily
refused the solicitations of Grace that he should occupy his more recent
mansion. Mrs. Conroy and infant were at the hotel.
"Thar, Olly," said Gabriel, "I reckon that a cartload o' boards and a
few days' work with willin' hands, will put that thar shanty back ag'in
ez it used to be when you and me waz childun."
"Yes," said Olly, abstractedly.
"We've had good times yer, Olly, you and me!"
"Yes," said Olly, with eyes still afar.
Gabriel looked down--a great way--on his sister, and then suddenly took
her hand and sat down upon the doorstep, drawing her between his knees
after the old fashion.
"Ye ain't hearkenin' to me, Olly dear!"
Whereat Miss Olympia instantly and illogically burst into tears, and
threw her small arms about Gabriel's huge bulk. She had been capricious
and fretful since Mr. Hamlin's death, and it may be that she embraced
the dead man again in her brother's arms. Hut her outward expression
was, "Gracey! I was thinking o' poor Gracey, Gabe!"
"Then," said Gabriel, with intense archness and cunning, "you was
thinkin' o' present kempany, for ef I ain't blind, that's them coming up
the hill."
There were two figures slowly coming up the hill outlined against the
rosy sunset. A man and woman--Arthur Poinsett and Grace Conroy. Olly
lifted her head and rose to her feet. They approached nearer. No one
spoke. The next instant--impulsively I admit, inconsistently I
protest--the sisters were in each other's arms. The two men looked at
each other, awkward, reticent, superior.
Then the women having made quick work of it, the two men were treated to
an equally illogical, inconsistent embrace. When Grace at last, crying
and laughing, released Gabriel's neck from her sweet arms, Mr. Poinsett
assumed the masculine attitude of pure reason.
"Now that you have found your sister, permit me to introduce you to my
wife," he said to Gabriel, taking Grace's hand in his own.
Whereat Olly flew into Poinsett's arms, and gave him a fraternal and
conciliatory kiss. Tableau.
"You don't look like a bride," said the practical Olly to Mrs.
Poinsett, under her breath; "you ain't got no veil, no orange
blossoms--and that black dress"----
"We've been married seven years, Olly," said the quick-eared and
ready-witted Arthur.
And then these people began to chatter as if they had always been in the
closest confidence and communion.
"You know," said Grace to her brother, "Arthur and I are going East, to
the States, to-morrow, and really, Gabe, he says he will not leave here
until you consent to take back your house--your wife's house, Gabe. You
know WE" (there was a tremendous significance in this newly-found
personal plural), "WE have deeded it all to you."
"I hev a dooty to per-form to Gracey," said Gabriel Conroy, with astute
deliberation, looking at Mr. Poinsett, "a dooty to thet gal, thet must
be done afore any transfer of this yer proputty is made. I hev to make
restitution of certain papers ez hez fallen casooally into my hands.
This yer paper," he added, drawing a soiled yellow envelope from his
pocket, "kem to me a week ago, the same hevin' lied in the Express
Office sens the trial. It belongs to Gracey, I reckon, and I hands it to
her."
Grace tore open the envelope, glanced at its contents hurriedly, uttered
a slight cry of astonishment, blushed, and put the paper into her
pocket.
"This yer paper," continued Gabriel, gravely, drawing another from his
blouse, "was found by me in the Empire Tunnel the night I was runnin'
from the lynchers. It likewise b'longs to Gracey--and the world
gin'rally. It's the record of Dr. Devarges' fust discovery of the silver
lead on this yer hill, and," continued Gabriel, with infinite gravity,
"wipes out, so to speak, this yer mineral right o' me and Mr. Dumphy and
the stockholders gin'rally."
It was Mr. Poinsett's turn to take the paper from Gabriel's hands. He
examined it attentively by the fading light. "That is so," he said,
earnestly; "it is quite legal and valid."
"And thar ez one paper more," continued Gabriel, this time putting his
hand in his bosom and drawing out a buckskin purse, from which he
extracted a many-folded paper. "It's the grant that Dr. Devarges gave
Gracey, thet thet pore Mexican Ramirez ez--maybe ye may remember--waz
killed, handed to my wife, and July, my wife"--said Gabriel, with a
prodigious blush--"hez been sorter keepin' IN TRUST for Gracey!"
He gave the paper to Arthur, who received it, but still retained a warm
grasp of Gabriel's massive hand.
"And now," added Gabriel, "et's gettin' late, and I reckon et's about
the square thing ef we'd ad-journ this yer meeting to the hotel, and ez
you're goin' away, maybe ye'd make a partin' visit with yer wife,
forgettin' and forgivin' like, to Mrs. Conroy and the baby--a pore
little thing--that ye wouldn't believe it, Mr. Poinsett, looks like me!"
But Olly and Grace had drawn aside, and were in the midst of an animated
conversation. And Grace was saying--
"So I took the stone from the fire, just as I take this" (she picked up
a fragment of the crumbling chimney before her); "it looked black and
burnt just like this; and I rubbed it hard on the blanket so, and it
shone, just like silver, and Dr. Devarges said"----
"We are going, Grace," interrupted her husband, "we are going to see
Gabriel's wife." Grace hesitated a moment, but as her husband took her
arm he slightly pressed it with a certain matrimonial caution, whereupon
with a quick impulsive gesture, Grace held out her hand to Olly, and the
three gaily followed the bowed figure of Gabriel, as he strode through
the darkening woods.