Kitabı oku: «Dorothy at Skyrie», sayfa 12
CHAPTER XX
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
The chief event of the day was to be the exploration of "Si Waterman's Folly." This occurred immediately after dinner.
Jim and Herbert, aided by Mr. Winters's strong arms, found small difficulty in removing the decayed plank covering which the old miner had placed above his narrow-mouthed shaft. This had once rolled easily enough upon deftly applied rollers and had been arranged to protect Mr. Waterman from detection when excavating, in search of that gold which he believed lay buried in south meadow. He was a secretive man who shared no secrets with his neighbors if he could help it, yet whose very idiosyncrasies betrayed them.
"Well, that's a good job done!" cried Seth, as the cover was pushed aside. "See there?"
He placed his heel upon the boards, which at once broke into fragments beneath his weight.
"Why, anybody might have stepped upon it and fallen through!" cried Dorothy, astonished.
"Yes. A good job to have prevented such an accident. But the hole, or shaft is – Hello, friend GHOST! Come out of that, if you please; all your neighbors have come to visit you and expect you to show the honors of your retreat!"
Many heads were now crowded together, peering into the dimness of the shaft. It sloped inward and downward into a wider opening that was almost like a small chamber in its dimensions. Another entrance led to this chamber, a passage of a few feet in length, burrowed beneath the ground and opening upon the hillside beyond. Through this little tunnel came fresh air and light; and within the chamber had been collected the odds and ends of things which had caught the half-wit's fancy. A bundle of straw and a worn-out horse-blanket which somebody had discarded formed his bed. Some bits of broken crockery furnished his table, a board wedged against the rock. A spring of water gushed from one wall of the chamber and trickled into the depths below, and a curious odor escaped from the spring.
The leather jacket, the glazed hat with its bedraggled scarlet feathers, lay carefully folded upon the straw pallet, and its owner sat beside the jacket shamefaced and terrified by this intrusion upon his retreat. But it was something else that caught Dorothy's attention – a simple suit of denim that had once been blue but was now faded by sun and water to a ghostly white. Peter wore these now and – she recognized them.
"Peter! Peter! So you are the good 'Ghost' that came in the night and tilled my garden for me! Come out, come out and let me thank you!"
Though he had obstinately refused to answer the call of Seth Winters, the voice of the girl he had so secretly served, because she had been kind to him, was instantly obeyed. He climbed out of the shaft and, taking hold of her skirt as he had done once before, stood foolishly smiling while his good friend, the blacksmith, gayly announced:
"Behold the 'Haunt' of Skyrie! The honestest, most innocent, most grateful of Ghosts! During the years it was vacant he made Skyrie his home, sleeping of winters in its hillside room, and in summer seeking this cool retreat where we have just unearthed him. He must, he will, haunt no more; for if I judge aright the new master of old Skyrie will at once engage him to take the place of Pa Babcock, resigned. A better gardener there isn't 'up-mounting.' A more devoted servitor no man can find, once his affection is won as our little Dorothy has won it. What say, neighbors Chester? Will you secure your greatly needed 'hired man' and forever 'lay the ghost' of Skyrie at one 'fell swoop'?"
"Aye, aye! Hear!" cried father John, entering fully into the blacksmith's spirit, even while he did not fully understand, till Dorothy explained all the mysterious, yet beneficent, happenings of the past few weeks; and then not only he but mother Martha bade the poor waif welcome to their home, while all the others standing by applauded vigorously.
"But this isn't all we came to see. The gold mine, the gold mine! Peter may be human gold, but the rich yellow metal is what we want!" cried Herbert, when the cheers had died away.
"Who'll go first?" asked somebody.
"Why, I, of course!" returned young Montaigne, springing recklessly into that rough shaft which veered from the wide safety of the upper chamber.
Whereat a strange thing happened. Peter dropped the fold of his new mistress's skirt and stepped hastily forward, warning by gestures and his uncertain mumbling that Herbert should not go. Alas! the warning was useless. The spirit of adventure was on the whole party, an eager desire to be the first who should unearth a "nugget," and even cautious Jim Barlow caught the infection, while Dorothy ran forward as lightly as if she were to cross only the smooth meadow.
As the heads disappeared below the surface of the ground, and the shouts of those who scrambled downward over the rude rocky shaft grew fainter, Peter was seized with a terrible trembling and stood as if rooted to the ground in fear. A minute more and a girl's scream aroused him. Dorothy's! She was falling – falling – into an unknown depth! One mis-step, the slimy stones, the unforeseen peril! Both Jim and Herbert were already far below, following with extreme care, if still with all the speed possible, the tortuous excavation, in search of that deluding metal which has lured so many to their ruin. Only Peter Piper, the simple, to hear and comprehend.
As if by magic his trembling ceased and with a cat-like leap, so swift and soft it was, he had also disappeared beneath the ground. Then something whispered to the Chesters of their darling's danger. They pressed forward to the edge of the pit, and almost equally pale with fear, Mrs. Cecil joined them; clinging to Martha with a sympathy of distress which broke down in a moment the younger woman's dislike of the elder.
None of the trio were prepared for that which followed. Dorothy's slight figure came hurtling out of the pit's mouth, tossed to their very feet by the long arms of Peter Piper. A moment later he stood beside them, exhausted, silent; while the girl explained, as her own breath returned and terror subsided:
"Oh! he saved my life! He saved my life! I was falling – I knew – it was death – those awful stones – so dark. He caught me, he knew. He isn't 'simple' but wise; wise and oh! so good! Peter, you blessed Ghost! I owe you my life!"
But this excitement ebbed only to give way to another. When Dorothy had recovered her composure and sat quietly beside her elders, Peter beside her, with no desire left on her part for either explorations or the biggest of "nuggets," a fresh cry of alarm sounded from the mine. The cry preluded the frenzied rush out of the chasm of those who could escape it first; but it was upon Herbert and Jim that all were intent – upon poor Jim more than the other.
As they came up Peter Piper cast one glance upon them, then hid his face and shuddered.
"A horse! A doctor! Quick, quick! For the love of God, a horse!" gasped Herbert, and in a few broken words explained:
"We got into a nest – a nest of serpents. One had raised its head – I didn't see it – to strike my hand! Jim – Jim caught it, it swung around – bit him – O God! Don't let him die! He offered his life for mine whom he didn't like! He saved me! Can nobody – nobody save him?"
With his arm around his rescuer the frantic Herbert searched the blanched faces for some sign of help; and out of the startled silence which greeted his appeal came Seth Winters's calm voice:
"To my shop. I've medicines there. I'll take one side, you the other, Herbert. If need be, we can make a 'chair' and carry him between us. You can walk, for a while anyway, Jim. You are not going to die. Steady now, on your own feet, steady – as when you so nobly threw away your life to save the boy you 'didn't like'!"
The shop was, indeed, the nearest place where help could be obtained, and they started, all following; a sad and terrified party that but an hour before had been so gay and happy. And presently Jim's nerve returned to him, for it had been worsted for the moment by the cries and assertions of the others that he was doomed to death.
But where was Dorothy – who should have been foremost with sympathy and cheer? Halfway down the mountain before the company had all left that unlucky south meadow. Fully down by the time the smithy was reached. Race, Portia, race. A life hangs on your fleetness! Jim's life, Jim's! Who has proved that "greater love hath no man but that he lay down his life for his friend." And this was more than "friend" – it was the boy "he didn't like" – yet by the strange rule of nature, was forever after to be the Damon to his Pythias. Experience has long proved that the surest way to overcome an aversion to a person is to do that person a kindness.
Where, too, was Peter, the simple? Not far behind his faithful friend, the smith, having lingered only long enough to dart into the woods and fill his hands with a certain herb he knew; then to follow and reach the smithy just in time to hear its owner say:
"Faint, Jim? Drink this. Herbert, bare his arm. It will be heroic treatment, my lad, but, my hero– bear it! and live to teach the world a lesson."
Some turned their eyes aside as the smith drew from the glowing forge a white-hot iron and held it to the wound upon Jim's sunburned flesh. Not Jim! this wise old man toward whom his young soul had yearned from the beginning had called him "hero": and within himself he knew that he was far more such now than when he had rescued Dorothy from bondage, though they had termed him "hero" even then.
The wound cauterized, came Peter Piper with his healing leaves, bringing infinite relief; and soon as might be came also Dorothy upon her piebald mare, and the doctor close beside her on his own fleet steed; approving all that had been done, assuring everybody that no fatal results could follow such prompt treatment; and especially commending Peter Piper for his knowledge of those simples which mother Nature grows so luxuriantly for the use of all her children.
Thus ended the picnic and the search for hidden gold. But so soon as most of the company had departed from the over-crowded shop, Jim was made to ride upon Portia home to Skyrie, though he was now able to smile and declare that his legs were so long they would drag upon the ground.
However, he managed to hold them sufficiently high and to adapt himself to the despised saddle of a girl. With him went the few who knew him best; Seth Winters and Herbert, Mrs. Cecil and Martha, Helena herself – not to be outdone in gratitude for her brother's life; and John Chester with his "little maid" beside him. They had all anticipated finding a restful quiet at Skyrie; but they failed. The moving events of that memorable day were not all accomplished yet.
On the little upper porch sat Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, waiting the return of Skyrie's owners to lay before them the scheme first evolved by their son and heir, and now indorsed with all heartiness by themselves. Chatting familiarly alongside, was Friend Oliver Sands; never more benignant nor complacent than now, and never more persistently engaged in "squeezing his hands" than at that hour.
Below, on the stone doorsteps, sat the two surveyors who had once before visited the cottage; and at sight of these the hearts of the elder Chester's sank, while Seth merrily whispered to Dorothy:
"Behold the hour is ripe and I am here to see!"
One other group there was, strolling idly about the garden, toying with Lady Rosalind, and contentedly amusing themselves until such time as they could make their errand to Skyrie known. Nobody seemed to know them; even Seth Winters failed to recognize the strangers and, for a moment, feared what they might have come to say. The next instant his brow cleared and his laughter was merrier than before.
Mr. Montaigne was the first to state his business, when once all were ready to listen. It was extremely simple and concerned Dorothy most of all. Said he:
"My dear young lady, we have come to invite you to accompany us to Europe. We shall leave New York in a few weeks and remain abroad for one, possibly two, years. We are going to give our children the benefit of foreign education, which we want you to share with them and along whatever lines you, or your parents, select. Of course, there will be no expense to you, who will be to us exactly as our own daughter, and whom we have learned to love almost as such. Will you go?"
For a moment nobody spoke. Then said Dorothy very quietly, and scarcely daring to look at Helena or Herbert in their so evident disappointment:
"I thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, for your great kindness. It is very wonderful that you should have shown it to me whom you have known such a little while. But I cannot go. My father and mother need me and – I need them. A foreign education would not help me to earn my living as I must do some day, and – I thank you again, but I cannot go."
To Helena's and Herbert's pleadings, which so strenuously followed, she could give no other answer. The invitation had been most tempting to her who so dearly loved to see new places and new people, but – her answer still was: "No."
Then the family from the Towers departed and Friend Oliver began:
"Thee is a good daughter, Dorothy Chester, and thee has well said that as a poor girl thee will need only the plainest education."
"Beg pardon, sir, but I did not say that! I shall get just as good an education as I can, but I won't turn my back on those I love and who love me for the sake of getting it. That's already planned for. Dear Mr. Winters is going to open a school in the old smithy and all of us are to attend it. We've talked it over many a day, knowing how soon our summer friends would be away and our own real time for study and work would come. Jim and I, all the Babcocks, and – "
But the miller had scant interest in these plans. He interrupted her by turning to Martha Chester and saying:
"I suppose, Martha, that thee has reconsidered thy objection to selling south meadow, or are ready to pay me my money loaned thee 'on demand.' Is thee ready?"
"Oh! sir!" began the troubled housemistress, and was amazed that a child should interfere by saying:
"Wait a moment, mother dear. How much do my parents owe you 'on demand'?"
At a nod from Mr. Winters she had slipped away and as swiftly returned and now stood before the astonished company, holding a fat purse in her hands and calmly awaiting the miller's reply.
For an instant he could not make it. His amazement was too deep. The next with a sort of chuckle, as if sure that so large an amount could not be held in so small a compass, he announced the sum with interest in full.
"Very well. Here, father, is the money. More I think than you will need. It is mine. My very own to give to you and mother, as I do give it now. Mr. Winters knows. He will explain. Pay the man, do please, and let him go."
John Chester glanced at Seth Winters and received that gentleman's confirmatory nod; then he promptly opened the pocket-book and counted out the crisp banknotes which freed him and his home from the society of the miller and his men.
Oliver departed. If he were crestfallen he did not show it, and in that respect the worthy smith and Mrs. Cecil both were disappointed. He even ventured to congratulate the Chesters upon the possession of "such a forehanded" daughter and to wish them every prosperity. With that and summoning his surveyors, he took his benign presence out of the way.
Strangely enough, the surveyors did not at once follow, even to secure their wage which so just a man would surely pay. They even made light of such wages. During the time of waiting they had made other possible arrangements with the gentlemen in the garden, and they waited still further, with admirable patience, to see if these arrangements were correct.
It was time for the strangers in the garden to have their own little interview, and, seeing them approach, poor mother Martha passed her hand across her tired brow, confused by all that had happened and dreading what might come. Too tired, as yet, to fully realize herself that her dreadful "debt" no longer rested on her shoulders.
But she need not have feared. These strangers were plain business men, with no sentiment about them. Said the foremost:
"Madam, we represent a syndicate prepared to buy, or operate in common with you, an iron mine that has been discovered on your land. In connection with this mine there is also a mineral spring from which a rich revenue may be obtained if properly managed. I have the honor to lay before you the two propositions of our company and to close with you as soon as the legal forms can be completed. It is royalty or open sale – if you will consider either."
Oh, but it was well that two such wise and faithful counselors as Seth Winters and Mrs. Calvert were present then to advise these inexperienced Chesters for their own best advantage. Be assured they did so, and subsequently that "deal" was accomplished on the wise "royalty" basis, which proved, in one sense, indeed a "gold mine"; although the "gold" was but pure iron and a most unsavory water – that local physicians had always maintained would cure many diseases, and which soon received widespread attention elsewhere.
Such a day and such an ending! What time more fitting to take a temporary leave of our dear Dorothy? Whose life moves forward in blessing, as all lives should move, and whom we must come back to at some happy, future day.
All partings hold a touch of sadness – so must ours. But there is brightness in the sunset which floods the fields of Skyrie, a promise of greater brightness on the morrow. Before the night falls, while the sunshine still lasts, let us bid our heroine a real, old-fashioned farewell:
"Well, Dorothy, good-by!"
