Part 27 (1/2)
”And you, at such severe labor and great danger, have found this n.o.ble man, and have sent him to us--to you do we owe what never can we pay--it is thus while we live must we always thank you in our hearts.
And to this place--so _won-n-der-ful_--Ah! Beautiful like heaven--Is not? Yes, and the sweet sound always in the air--like heaven and the sound of wings--to stop here even for this night is to make those sorrowful thoughts lie still and for a while speak nothing.”
As she turned from one to the other, addressing each in turn, warm lights flashed in her eyes through tears, like stars in a deep pool.
Her dark hair rolled back from her smooth oval forehead in heavy coils, and over her head and knotted under her perfect chin, outlining its curve, was a silken peasant handkerchief with a crimson border of the richest hue, while about the neck of her colorless, closely fitted gown was a piece of exquisite hand-wrought lace. She stood before them, a vision from the old world, full of innate ladyhood, simple as a peasant, at once appealing and dominating, impulsive, yet shy. Her beautiful enunciation, her inverted and quaintly turned English, alive with poetry, was typical of her whole personality, a sweet and strange mixture of the high-bred aristocrat and the simple directness and strength of the peasant.
The two men made stumbling and embarra.s.sed replies. That tender and beautiful quality of chivalry toward women, belonging by nature to undefiled manhood, was awakened in them, and as one being, not two, they would have laid their all at her feet. This, indeed, they literally did. The small, one-room cabin, which had so long served for Larry Kildene's palace, was given over entirely to the two women, and the men made their own abode in the shed where they had slept.
This they accomplished by creating a new room, by extending the roof-covered s.p.a.ce Larry had used for his stable and the storing of fodder, far enough along under the great overhanging rock to allow of comfortable bunks, a place to walk about, and a fireplace also. The labor involved in the making of this room was a boon to Harry King.
Upon the old stone boat which Larry had used for a similar purpose he hauled stones gathered from the rock ledge and built therewith a chimney, and with the few tools in the big man's store he made seats out of hewn logs, and a rude table. This work was left to him by the older man purposely, while he occupied himself with the gathering in of the garden stuff for themselves and for the animals. A matter that troubled his good heart not a little was that of providing for the coming winter enough food supply for his suddenly acquired family. Of grain and fodder he thought he had enough for animals kept in idleness, as he still had stores gathered in previous years for his own horse. But for these women, he must not allow them to suffer the least privation.
It was not the question of food alone that disturbed him. At last he laid his troubles before Harry King.
”You know, lad, it won't be so long before the snow will be down on us, and I'm thinking what shall we do with them when the long winter days set in.” He nodded his head toward the cabin. ”It's already getting too cold for them to sit out of doors as they do. I should have windows in my cabin--if I could get the gla.s.s up here. They can't live there in the darkness, with the snow banked around them, with nothing to use their fingers on as women like to do. Now, if they had cloth or thread--but what use had I for such things? They're not among my stores. I did not lay out to make it a home for women. The mother will get farther and farther astray with her dreams if she has nothing to do such as women like.”
”I think we should ask them--or ask Amalia, she is wise. Have you enough to keep them on--of food?”
”Of food, yes. Such as it is. No flour, but plenty of good wheat and corn. I always pound it up and bake it, but it is coa.r.s.e fare for women. There's plenty of game for the hunting, and easy got, but it's something to think about we'll need, else we'll all go loony.”
”You have lived long here alone and seem sound of mind,--except for--”
Harry King smiled, ”except for a certain unworldliness that would pa.s.s for lunacy in the world below these heights.”
”Let alone, son. I've usually had my own way for these years and have formed the habit, but I've had my times. At the best it's a sort of lunacy that takes a man away from his fellows, especially an Irishman.
Maybe you'll discover for yourself before we part--but it's not to the point now. I'm asking you how we can keep the mother from brooding and the daughter happy? She's asking to be sent away to earn money for her mother. She thinks she can take her mother with her to the nearest place on that new railroad you tell me of, and so on to some town. I tell her, no. And if she goes, and leaves her mother here--bless you--what would we do with her? Why, the woman would go yonder and jump over the cliff.”
”Oh, it would never do to listen to her. It would never do for her to try living in a city earning her bread--not while--” Harry King paused and turned a white, drawn face toward the mountain. Larry watched him. ”I can do nothing.” He threw out his hands with a sudden downward movement. ”I, a criminal in hiding! My manhood is of no avail! My G.o.d!”
”Remember, lad, the women have need of you right here. I'm keeping you on this mountain at my valuation, not yours. I have need of you, and your past is not to intrude in this place, and when you go out in the world again, as you will, when the right time comes, you'll know how to meet--and face--your life--or death, as a man should.
”Hold yourself with a firm hand, and do the work of the days as they come. It's all the Lord gives us to do at any time. If I only had books--now,--they would help us,--but where to get them--or how? We'll even go and ask the women, as you advise.”
They all ate together in the little cabin, as was their habit, a meal prepared by Amalia, and carefully set out with all the dishes the cabin afforded: so few that there were not enough to serve all at once, but eked out by wooden blocks, and small lace serviettes taken from Amalia's store of linen. At noon one day Larry Kildene spoke his anxieties for their welfare, and cleverly managed to make the theme a gay one.
”Where's the use in adopting a family if you don't get society out of them? The question I ask is, when the winter shuts us in, what are we going to do for sport--work--what you will? It's indoor sport I'm meaning, for Harry and I have the hunting and providing in the daytime. No, never you ask me what I was doing before you came. I was my own master then--”
”And now you are ours? That is good, Sir Kildene. You have to say what to do, and me, I accept to do what you advise. Is not?”
Amalia turned to Larry and smiled, and whenever Amalia smiled, her mother would smile also, and nod her head as if to approve, although she usually sat in silence.
”Yours to command,” said Larry, bowing.
”He's master of us all, but it's yours to direct, Lady Amalia.”
”Oh, me, Mr. 'Arry. It is better for me I make for you both sufficient to eat, so all goes well. I think I have heard men are always pleased of much that is excellent to eat and drink.”
”Now, listen. We have only a short time before the heavy snows will come down on us, and then there will be no chance whatever to get supplies of any sort before spring. How far is the road completed now, Harry?”
”It should be well past Cheyenne by now. They must be working toward Laramie rapidly. If--if--you think best, I will go down and get supplies--whatever can be found there.”