Part 12 (2/2)

On rowing down the tranquil stream, and coming once more into the shady yard of the Warlows, our young friends found the tea-table spread under the boughs of the ever-serviceable elm, and Rob and Scott busy a.s.sisting Mrs. Warlow with the evening meal.

As with deft fingers Maud culled choice bouquets from her garden, and decked the table, she felt a thrill of pardonable pride in the snowy damask, the crystal and silver that glittered with the polish of good housewifery, and the tempting, dainty dishes which her mother had, with true Western hospitality, prepared in honor of the guests.

Ah, hungry reader, I wish that you could have been there also; for my mouth vainly waters, even yet, at the remembrance of asparagus and green peas, spring-chicken smothered in cream (which I hasten to explain was not the fowl of boarding-house memory and tradition, with which the frosts of December had ”monkeyed;” no barn-yard champion was it, with cotton-like breast and sinewy limb, but a tender daughter of the May-time, that had perished on the threshold of a bright young pullethood), and frosty lemon-pie, just tinged with bronze, flanked by the crimson moulds of plum-jelly.

An hour later, in the gloomy twilight, as the guests were taking leave, Miss Estill said:--

”Your son has told me of the old tragedy that has saddened your life, Colonel; but it is very strange that I should resemble that ill-fated Mexican bride.”

”Ah, Miss Estill, every hour you recall the memory of my lost friends; just such a daughter might have blessed them, _if they had lived_,” he replied, with a sigh, as he searched the young face with his wistful blue eyes.

”It is only a chance resemblance, of course--a mere coincidence,” she replied, in a tone of uneasiness. ”My parents were living here at the time of the ma.s.sacre; but I never have heard of the dreadful occurrence until to-day,” she added.

”I would like very much to meet your father, and talk over the early history of this country,” said the colonel, eagerly. ”I sometimes find myself hoping that they might have escaped,” he continued, in a half-musing tone, like one whose mind is wholly engrossed by an overmastering subject. She overlooked his incoherence, knowing well that he referred to Bruce and Ivarene. ”Since I have been here on the scene of the tragedy, the thought often recurs that I took it for granted that they perished, and have trusted too readily to circ.u.mstantial evidence in confirmation of that belief.”

”How strange it is that no trace of that enormous treasure of gold and gems was ever obtained!” she replied. ”But, then, the horde of Cheyennes, which Hugh said to-day were reported as having been led by white men, found it an easy task enough, no doubt, to carry away even that great amount of coin after their murderous work.”

”Ah! it is all a strange, dark mystery,” he replied; ”and to-day it is more impenetrable than ever. But if I could see your father he might remember.”

Here the colonel paused abruptly, and threw up one hand with an involuntary start, and Miss Estill saw by the faint light that he was ashen pale. But as the others were now pa.s.sing out through the gate, she reluctantly shook hands with the colonel, who, she saw, was trembling with repressed emotion; and then she took leave of the other members of the family, vaguely wondering why the courtly old gentleman should be so affected by events which had occurred more than a quarter of a century before.

When, an hour later, Clifford returned from Squire Moreland's, whither he had accompanied Miss Estill, he was accosted by Rob in the following vein:--

”What's up, Cliff?”

”Up where?” replied his brother, evasively.

”On the porch, if you have eyes for anything less attractive than a young lady with a mop of blue hair,” said the indignant Rob.

”Oh--father and mother! Why, I can't see anything strange in our parents sitting on the porch,” replied his brother, in a tone of feigned indifference.

”Well, but they have had their heads together and been plotting for an hour; but Maud keeps up such an everlasting racket with her singing and dish-clattering that I can't hear a word they say. That girl positively is noisier than a fire-engine. Now, just listen at that!” as Maud's voice sang in sweet crescendo:--

”Stars are s.h.i.+ning, Mollie darling.” (Crash, rattle.)

_Mrs. Warlow._--”Do you think it possible that they were saved?”

_Maud_ (diminuendo).--

”Through the mystic veil of night.” (Rinkety-clink.)

_Colonel._--”She may be their daughter, who survived.” (Splatter.)

_Maud_ (piano).--

”No one listens but the flowers, As they hang their heads in shame.” (Klinkety-klink.)

_Rob._--

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