The Angel of the Gila Part 27

Then the family withdrew. Soon Esther pretended to be asleep.

Occasionally the child reached out and touched her arm to make sure his Beloved was there. Then he fell asleep.

But Esther was wakeful. Why had Kenneth come for her? Was she coming to care too much for him? How would it all end? When she at last fell asleep, her dreams were troubled.

CHAPTER X

CARLA EARLE

School had been dismissed, and the shadows had begun to lengthen in the valley. Esther Bright sat in the doorway of the schoolhouse, leaning against the jamb of the door, her hands resting idly in her lap. At last she lifted a letter she held, and read over again the closing words, "Thy devoted grandfather, David Bright."

She brushed her hand across her cheek more than once, as she sat there, looking off, miles away, to her New England home. She heard a step, and turning, saw Carla Earle approaching. Before she could rise, Carla was at her side, half shy, uncertain of herself. Without the usual preliminary of greeting, Carla said: "Are you homesick?"

She had seen Esther wipe tears from her cheeks.

"A little. I was thinking of my grandfather, and how I'd love to see him. I am always homesick when his letters come. One came to-day."

"I am homesick, too," said Carla, "for my native land, its green turf, its stately trees, the hedges, the cottages, the gardens, the flowers and birds--and--everything!"

"Sit down, Carla. Let's talk. You are homesick for your native land, and I am homesick for my grandfather."

She took one of the English girl's hands in hers, and they talked long of England. At last Carla asked Esther to sing for her. For answer, Esther rose, entered the schoolroom, and returned, bringing her guitar. Then striking the chords of C Major, she sang softly, "Home, Sweet Home." As she sang, Carla watched her through tears.

"An exile from home," the teacher sang; but at that moment she heard a sob. She stopped singing.

"Go on, please," begged the English girl.

Again the cords vibrated to the touch of Esther's fingers, and she sang the song that has comforted many a sorrowing heart.

"There were ninety and nine that safely lay In the shelter of the fold; But one was out on the hills away, Far off from the gates of gold."

On she sang, her voice growing more pitifully tender.

"But none of the ransomed ever knew How deep were the waters crossed; Nor how dark the night that the Lord pa.s.sed through, Ere He found His sheep that was lost.

Out in the darkness He heard its cry,-- Sick and helpless and ready to die."

Then as she sang,

"And the angels echoed around the throne, 'Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!'"

her voice thrilled with triumphant hope.

Was she inspired, or was it simply that she was about her Master's business? Her voice seemed a message from G.o.d to the stricken girl who listened. Carla, looking into the face of Esther Bright, saw there a smile that was ineffably sweet; saw, too, the golden light of the setting sun playing about her face and form.

Song after song was sung from one heart to the other. The guitar was laid aside. Then hand in hand, the two girls sat talking till the sunset faded, talking through falling tears, talking of ideals of life, and of how sweet and good life may be. Then Esther told of the Blessed One of Galilee whose love and compa.s.sion never fail. And at last Carla told her her whole sad story.

"But you will leave the saloon, Carla, won't you? You will throw off Mr. Clifton's influence?" Esther said as they rose to go. "I can give you shelter until I can find a home for you, only leave that dreadful place."

"I can't; I love him," she answered. Then, covering her face with her hands, she wept bitterly.

"You _can_ leave him, I know, and you will in time. Come often to see me, as you have done to-day. Perhaps you and I together, with G.o.d's help, can find a way."

They parted at the schoolhouse, Esther returning home, her heart sorrowful. She thought of One who centuries before had sought the mountains alone, the sorrow of a world upon His heart. She understood it now, understood at least something of the agony of that sorrow. She went to her room and prayed. When at last she rose from her knees, her face looked drawn. The feeling as of a heavy weight upon her heart increased. How helpless she seemed!

She opened her window wider, and looked up into the fathomless blue.

An overwhelming desire to save the tempted English girl had taken possession of her. What should she do?

As she stood thus, she seemed conscious of a presence, and turned as though expecting to see some one; but no one was there. She heard no voice. Notwithstanding the evidence of her eyes, she could not shake off the feeling of another presence than her own. She turned again toward the window, and looked out into the crystal deeps. Then a strange peace came upon her. It seemed a foretaste of heaven. She threw herself on the lounge in her room, and fell into a refres.h.i.+ng sleep.

But what of Carla Earle?

On leaving Esther, she walked slowly toward Keith's saloon. Suddenly, she put her hand to her heart, staggered, and gave a sharp cry. Then trembling in every limb, she turned abruptly, and walked rapidly toward the canyon. She reached a place that seemed to have a fascination for her. She looked at the dark pool and wrung her hands.

Her muscles gave way, and she sank on the bank, while great convulsive sobs shook her frame. She tried to rise, but her limbs refused to obey her will. Then it was that her agony of shame, and sorrow, and remorse burst forth in pitiful cries to G.o.d to let her die. She removed her hat and wrap, and crawled to the verge of the black pool. She shuddered as she looked. Then a great horror-stricken cry came from her white lips as she plunged into the seething waters.

There was the sound of a human voice in answer; and a moment later, Patrick Murphy plunged after her, grasped and caught her floating skirt, pulled her by it to sh.o.r.e, and lifted her up the bank. He began to wring the water from her skirts.

"La.s.s, la.s.s," he said, kindly, "what made yez do it? What's the matter wid yez?"

Great sobs were his only answer. It seemed as though the girl must die from the agony of her distress.

Then he lifted her in his arms, and carried her to where he had left his horse. By the dim light, he had recognized Carla Earle, and he at once concluded that Mark Clifton was responsible for her deed. His first impulse, like all of his impulses, was a generous one. He resolved to take her to his home, and become her protector. As he was about to lift her to his horse's back, he discovered that she had fainted. He succeeded in lifting her to the saddle, mounted behind her, and rode directly to his home.

A few words sufficed to explain to his wife the rescue of the girl, and the necessity of keeping her whereabouts a profound secret. Every member of the family was enjoined to strict silence about the presence of Carla Earle in their home.

Mrs. Murphy undressed Carla and put her in her own bed. The helplessness of the unconscious girl appealed to her. After a time, Carla's eyes opened. She looked startled, and began to rave, writhing and twisting as one in mortal agony. Now she called on Mark Clifton to keep his promise to her; now she asked Wathemah to go for Miss Bright; now she begged G.o.d to take her; now she was on the brink of the pool, and in the dark water.

So she raved, and the night pa.s.sed. From time to time Mrs. Murphy laid wet cloths on Carla's head, or moistened her lips. The two faithful watchers did not close their eyes. The day dawned, and they were still watching; but at last their patient slept.

When Carla finally wakened, she looked around, and seeing Mrs. Murphy, asked where she was.

"With friends who are going to take good care of yer," answered her nurse.

"How did I come here?"

Mrs. Murphy explained that her husband had found her unconscious, and had brought her to his home. And, leaning down, she did an unprecedented thing. She kissed Carla Earle. At this Carla began to cry.

"Don't cry, la.s.s, don't cry," said Patrick, who entered just then. He turned away and blew his nose violently.

"I must get up and help you," said the sick girl, trying to rise. But she did not rise that day nor for many days. Throughout her illness that followed, Mrs. Murphy's kindness was unstinted. She waited on the sick girl with unfailing patience. But Brigham was oftenest at her bedside when home, telling her of his beloved teacher and what she taught them. At last Carla begged to see her.

That very day Patrick drove down for Esther, telling her on their way back to the ranch the particulars of his finding Carla Earle, and of her subsequent illness.

"You dear, good people!" said Esther, deeply touched. "I feel so grateful to you."

"Och! That's nothin', Miss," he responded awkwardly. "Whin Oi see the girl so near desthruction, Oi sez ter mesilf, sez Oi, what if me sisther or one of me little girrls wuz iver ter be in the clutches of a Mark Clifton? So Oi sez ter mesilf, sez Oi, Oi'll jist save her.

That's all there wuz av it. My wife has taken care o' the la.s.s. An'