Part 68 (2/2)
”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.
CHAPTER XI.
THE RETURN OF A FOOTPRINT.
I regret that no detailed account of the reconciliatory visit to Mrs.
Conroy has been handed down, and I only gather a hint of it from after comments of the actors themselves. When the last words of parting had been said, and Grace and Arthur had taken their seats in the Wingdam coach, Gabriel bent over his wife's bedside,--
”It kinder seemed ez ef you and Mr. Poinsett recognised each other at first, July,” said Gabriel.
”I _have_ seen him before--not here! I don't think he'll ever trouble us much, Gabriel,” said Mrs. Conroy, with a certain triumphant lighting of the cold fires of her grey eyes. ”But look at the baby. He's laughing!
He knows you, I declare!” And in Gabriel's rapt astonishment at this unprecedented display of intelligence in one so young, the subject was dropped.
”Why, where did you ever see Mrs. Conroy before?” asked Grace of her husband, when they had reached Wingdam that night.
”I never saw _Mrs. Conroy_ before,” returned Arthur, with legal precision. ”I met a lady in St. Louis years ago under another name, who, I dare say, is now your brother's wife. But--I think, Grace--the less we see of her--the better.”
”Why?”
”By the way, darling, what was that paper that Gabriel gave you?” asked Arthur, lightly, avoiding the previous question.
Grace drew the paper from her pocket, blushed slightly, kissed her husband, and then putting her arms around his neck, laid her face in his breast, while he read aloud, in Spanish, the following:--
”This is to give trustworthy statement that on the 18th of May 1848, a young girl, calling herself Grace Conroy, sought shelter and aid at the Presidio of San Geronimo. Being friendless--but of the B. V. M. and the Saints--I adopted her as my daughter, with the name of Dolores Salvatierra. Six months after her arrival, on the 12th of November 1848, she was delivered of a dead child, the son of her affianced husband, one Philip Ashley. Wis.h.i.+ng to keep her secret from the world and to prevent recognition by the members of her own race and family, by the a.s.sistance and advice of an Indian _peon_, Manuela, she consented that her face and hands should be daily washed by the juice of the _Yokoto_--whose effect is to change the skin to the colour of bronze. With this metamorphosis she became known, by my advice and consent, as the daughter of the Indian Princess Nicata and myself. And as such I have recognised in due form her legal right in the appointment of my estate.
”Given at the Presidio of San Geronimo, this 1st day of December 1848.
”JUAN HERMENIZILDO SALVATIERRA.”
”But how did Gabriel get this?” asked Arthur.
”I--don't--know!” said Grace.
”To whom did _you_ give it?”
”To--Padre Felipe.”
”Oh, I see!” said Arthur. ”Then _you_ are Mr. Dumphy's long-lost wife?”
”I don't know what Father Felipe did,” said Grace, tossing her head slightly. ”I put the matter in his hands.”
”The whole story?”
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