Part 68 (1/2)
”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 fas.h.i.+on.
”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 a.s.sumed the masculine att.i.tude 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 rest.i.tution 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 ma.s.sive 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--