Part 15 (1/2)
As the young lady arose to greet the guests, the graceful animal bounded away to the shrubbery, where, after peeping a moment with shy wonder at the new-comers, it skurried off to the top of the cliff behind the dwelling, snorting and stamping its foot angrily at the intrusion.
After greeting her friends cordially, Miss Estill led the way through a tessellated hall, where the walls were frescoed and hung with elegant paintings, past the winding stairs of dark, rich wood, and to a cool, long room to the east, the floor of which was covered with India matting, swept by the lace curtains that shaded the lofty windows from the fierce sunlight. An air of quiet refinement and simple luxury pervaded this apartment, which spoke volumes, in a mute way--all very favorable to the Estill family.
When Mrs. Estill came into the room, Mora presented her new friends, who were charmed by the elder lady's welcome; but when Clifford was introduced she gave him a swift, searching glance from her keen, blue eyes, that brought a flush to his face at her look of scrutiny and valuation. She must have read him aright, however, for she gave her hand to young Warlow in a very friendly way, and he thought he detected a sub-tone of graciousness in her welcome to himself a shade deeper than when she had addressed the others.
Mrs. Estill was a fair, dignified matron, whose flaxen hair was now slightly tinged with gray; but as Clifford contrasted the creole daughter with her, he failed to detect any resemblance between the two.
The elder lady must have divined his thoughts, or observed his look of wonder at the strange dissimilarity existing between herself and her only daughter, for she appeared to be embarra.s.sed and constrained in her attempts at entertaining the guests; but Mora was so animated and vivacious that her mother's disquiet was unnoticed by all save Clifford, who vaguely wondered at this show of uneasiness over such a trifle; yet he had occasion before many weeks had elapsed to recall it all with a strange significance.
When Mr. Estill came in, and Mora had presented her new friends, the ruddy, genial old ranchman said with a smile:--
”Now this is something like civilized life once more! Why, it does my very soul good to see young company about the old ranch--a sight that is as rare as it is pleasant. I almost fancy myself back in the old home again.”
The visitors were soon chatting gaily with the courtly and entertaining host, who proved to be a typical ranchman of the plains,--shrewd through long dealings with a business cla.s.s noted for sagacity and wealth; urbane and refined in manner by having been thrown among bankers and the leading men of the city for many years; and lastly, hospitable, possibly owing to the fact that his hospitality had never been overtaxed nor abused in that thinly settled country.
”Where could this creole daughter have sprung from? She looks as if she might have stepped out of the Alhambra into this family of blonde Saxons,” said Clifford mentally, again contrasting Mora and her parents; and while he noted the auburn hair, just tinged with gray, of Mr.
Estill, and the blue eyes of that courtly old gentleman, the contrast with the creole daughter became so apparent that Clifford must have betrayed his surprise, for he was soon aware that Mrs. Estill was regarding him with an uneasy expression which only served to increase his perplexity. ”There is a skeleton in the domestic closet at Estill's ranch,” thought our young friend; ”but what can the mystery be?”
His speculations were cut short, however, by Mr. Estill saying that all the cow-boys were away with Hugh, s.h.i.+pping a ”bunch of steers,”--omitting the fact that the modest ”bunch” consisted of two long train-loads of sleek, fat beeves; and that the duties of hostler devolved upon himself in their absence.
The young men thereupon arose and left the room with their host, who, after the manner of Western people, believed in the maxim, ”Love me, love my dog,” which finds expression in the care lavished upon the horses of a welcome guest. This spirit often leads to a foundered nag, however; but it would be a very ungrateful man, indeed, who would grumble at such an evidence of esteem.
As they left the room to care for Clifford's team, Mora invited Maud and Grace up to her boudoir, which, she said, was so seldom visited that the spiders were more at home there than herself.
”You know about how much 'elegant leisure' falls to the lot of farmers and ranch people,” she added.
”Yes, indeed,” replied Maud, ruefully; ”what with baking, scouring, and dairy-work, we have not much time for frivolous dissipation.”
”Oh, what a lovely room!” screamed Grace in delight. ”If I had such a sweet boudoir I'd steal an hour at least every day to play the heroine, even if the bread burned and the dishes went unwashed in consequence,”
she added, rapturously.
”When up here I often dream that I am a grand lady,” said Mora, gaily; ”but when I catch a glimpse in the mirror of a frumpy, frouzy creature with a towel over her head, then I awake to the sad reality that I am only the slave of circ.u.mstances.”
Grace would have been perfectly justified, however, in indulging in day-dreams in such a place; for a more elegant apartment, or one where greater taste was evinced in every detail of adornment, was rarely to be seen in the West.
It was situated at the south end of the upper hall, and opened out upon the balcony by a door of plate gla.s.s, thick and beveled, through which could be seen the flas.h.i.+ng fountain on the terrace below and a landscape of surpa.s.sing beauty. The wooded stream wound away down the prairie valley, which was dotted with innumerable ricks of wild-hay; the white stone walls which fenced the ranch ran far out onto the highlands, dimly defining the boundaries of the great estate.
The walls of the elegant apartment were draped with and paneled by carmine and cream colored silk, relieved by lines of white. A carpet of creamy velvet was strewn with moss-roses of the same shade of carmine, with all the furniture upholstered to correspond. The walls were graced--not crowded--by a tall beveled mirror of French plate and some delicious paintings, framed in gilt. The low mantel was of Italian marble, white, dappled and veined with red shading to faintest rose.
Vases of Sevres china, statuettes of bronze, and elegantly bound volumes were seen on every hand. There was a table of mosaic, on which was a basket of fancy-work, that, Miss Estill said, was destined never to be finished. Through the draped doorway, on the east, could be seen the snowy, lace-canopied bed of the mistress of all this splendor. The sunlight, sifting through the tops of the elms which grew below the terrace, shone in fitful bars of amber on a picture which was riveting the attention of Maud, who sprang up from her velvet chair and cried with enthusiasm:--
”Oh Grace! it is 'Sunset on the Smoky Hill,' don't you see the Iron Mound looming up with vague mystery? The serpentine river, fringed by trees, is the Saline; and there, winding down from the north, is the stately Solomon; while here at our feet flows the Smoky Hill between its timbered banks. See that white blot, far out to the east, rising in the evening mirage,--it must be Fort Riley! There is Abilene; and all along the wide prairie valley, flanked by bold gra.s.sy headlands, are white villages and golden fields of wheat. Here, nestling down in the broad valley among the groves at the base of the Iron Mound, is Salina--which reminds me of Damascus, with its rivers of Abana and Pharpar. Out to the south-west see that long line of purple, jagged b.u.t.tes, over which eternally hovers a smoky haze,--those are the Smoky Hills! Look at the twilight stealing down through their gorges. Oh, it is like a glimpse of heaven! Mora--Mora! who could have painted this?” she said, with tears of genuine emotion. Then seeing Miss Estill blus.h.i.+ng hotly, she and Grace impulsively kissed the young artist--Maud saying with a little quaver of emotion:--
”Mora Estill, you dear, gifted creature--do you know that you are a genius?”
”I am not so certain of that, for I am often led to believe in Hugh's criticisms. He says that my best pictures are very similar in appearance to a newly flayed beef's-hide.” Then, as the others gave vent to shrieks of feminine amazement, Miss Estill continued merrily: ”I had a letter from him yesterday. He is at Kansas City, you know. Would you believe it?--he sent an order for me to paint the sign for a butcher's shop. The aggravating fellow charged me, carefully, to put a sufficient number of limbs on the figure of a cow that was to adorn the sign. Then he proceeded with a whole page of caution, in which he charged me to avoid the fatal error of painting claws upon the animal's hoofs. There followed a long homily, showing the dire results of such a slight mistake--the innuendo and sarcasm, the cold suspicion and cruel neglect, that would alight upon the head of a butcher who was suspected of making beef of an animal that wore claws.
”This picture of Lake Inman,” said Miss Estill, as the laughing group moved forward to where a beautiful painting hung, ”Hugh persists in calling 'The Knot Hole;' and in his letter he said that as to the horns of the animal which was to adorn the sign, they were a matter of indifference to the public, and I could keep them for the trunks of the 'stately elms' in my next landscape, and I might transplant them with great success to the sh.o.r.es of Lake Inman, which you see is badly in need of shade.”
”I'd just like to teach him,” said Grace, inadvertently; but seeing the amused look which Maud shot at Miss Estill she hesitated with a blush, while Mora quickly exclaimed:--