Part 39 (2/2)
The mountains, blus.h.i.+ng in the first rosy light, lifted their gleaming, glory-crowned spires heavenward; the cascades chanted in thunderous, yet rhythmic tones, their unceasing anthem of praise, their snow-white spray ascending skyward, like clouds of incense, while the little flowers, clinging to rock and ledge and mountain-side, turned their sweet faces upward in silent adoration.
The place seemed pervaded by a spirit of universal adoration and praise, and instinctively, Lyle bowed her head in silent wors.h.i.+p; and as she did so, there came to her, as though revealed by the lightning's flash, the vision of her mother kneeling beside her, in those dim days so long ago, clasping her tiny hands within her own, and teaching her baby lips to lisp the words of prayer.
For a long time she knelt in that temple made without hands, till mountain and valley were bathed in glorious sunlight; and when at last, she descended the rocky footpath, she felt, as she looked forth upon the new life opening before her, no fear, no shrinking, but strong to go forward and meet her destiny, whatever it might be.
All were impressed that morning by Lyle's manner, the added dignity of bearing, the new expression that looked forth from her soulful eyes, though none but Miss Gladden understood the cause.
At the breakfast table, the final plans were made for the reception of the guests to arrive that day. Word had been received that they were already in Silver City, and would come out on the noon train. Houston had telegraphed to the Y for the best team there to be in readiness to bring them up to the camp, and an hour or so before noon, he and Van Dorn were to take two horses and ride to the Y to meet them, and accompany them on their ride up the canyon. A late dinner was to be served upon their arrival, when the two ladies would be present, as Lyle no longer acted in the capacity of waiter, Miss Gladden having some time before insisted that she should preside at the table, and the blus.h.i.+ng Miss Bixby, after much painstaking effort, having been finally educated up to the point of performing that ceremony very creditably.
”Everard,” said Miss Gladden after breakfast, as Houston stopped for his customary chat with her before starting out on his daily routine, ”did you observe Lyle this morning? I never saw her look so lovely;”
adding playfully, ”I wonder you did not fall in love with her, she is far more beautiful than I.”
”Allow me to be judge,” he replied, ”though I will admit that I think she grows more beautiful every day. But as to falling in love with her, I doubt if I would have done that even had I not met you. From the first she has seemed to me unaccountably like a sister; I cannot explain why, unless it was because of that child-like, almost appealing manner she had at that time. She has none of it now, however, she is developing very rapidly into a n.o.ble womanhood, and yet I still have the same feeling toward her, and I think she regards me as a brother.”
”That is true,” said Miss Gladden, ”she cares for you more than for any of the others, but only, as you say, as a brother. Her heart does not seem to be very susceptible.”
”She may be none the less susceptible,” Houston replied, ”but she realizes her position here, and she is far too proud spirited to carry her heart upon her sleeve.”
Miss Gladden then related to Houston the events oi the preceding night, and Lyle's sudden recollection of her own mother. He was much interested.
”I am more than glad,” he replied, ”doubtless the memory of her early childhood will gradually come back to her, and we may be able to ascertain her true parentage. I hope so, at least, for I believe Maverick to be an out and out scoundrel, capable of any villainy, and I would like to see him brought to justice.”
The room set apart for the expected guests, as well as the dining-room, was decorated with wild flowers and trailing vines, and in this pleasant employment, and the preparation of a few dainty dishes for the table, the forenoon pa.s.sed swiftly.
The noon train had scarcely come to a stop at the little station at the Y, when Ned Rutherford was seen rus.h.i.+ng impetuously from the car, his camera case as usual in one hand, at sight of which the two young men waiting on the platform burst into a hearty laugh.
”There he is,” said Houston, ”the same old Ned!”
”The very same old boy!” added Van Dorn, as they hastened to meet him.
”Hullo, Everard!” cried Ned, jumping upon the platform, ”I say, but it seems mighty good to see you again! How are you, Van Dorn?”
”How are you, Ned?” said Van Dorn, extending his hand, ”we wouldn't have known you if it hadn't been for that camera box of yours!”
”That so?” answered Ned, good-naturedly, ”well, I always considered it indispensable, but I didn't suppose my ident.i.ty would be lost without it.”
Meanwhile, Houston had hastened to meet the elder brother, and it could readily be seen that they were more than ordinary friends.
”Everard, old fellow!” he exclaimed, in response to Houston's greeting, ”this is the greatest pleasure I've had in many a day. I never dreamed that the Houston of whom Ned wrote such glowing accounts was my old friend.”
”I used to think sometimes,” said Houston, ”when Ned was writing you, that I would like to send you some reminder of old times, a college pa.s.sword or signal that you would understand; but at that time, I didn't know Ned very well, and of course I was anxious to conceal my ident.i.ty here.”
”That was right,” said the elder Rutherford, with a comical glance at his brother, ”Ned is rather injudicious, he belongs to that unfortunate cla.s.s of people, with the best of intentions, who usually succeed in doing as much mischief as others with the worst.”
”Right you are there,” said Ned, ”I'm always putting my foot in it one way or another; I wouldn't advise anybody to make a confidant of me, I'd give them away sure. I say, Everard,” he continued, while his brother and Van Dorn exchanged cordial greetings, ”how are you getting on, and how is the Buncombe-Boomerang combination?”
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