CHAPTER XXI

An author who has been considered by very many people to be a most successful writer, one whose words have set before very many eyes vivid pictures of individual characteristics and national events as well, whose Indians are known all over the world, and whose historical novels will be eagerly perused as long as there are American eyes to read the pages of any book at all, used to make a sort of summary of the principal events in the lives of his very interesting characters: it always seemed to me that there was something very wholesome and satisfying in the way he finished up his books, and, so, I'd like to relate just a little more about the people I have tried to picture in this little book of mine.

Ruth Wakefield found her earthly mate when she found him whose life she helped to save upon the battle-field at night, and spent full many happy years in his society; they built a modern home upon the site of the mansion on the hill and did much good among the peasants living near to them; the man became the author of very many books, and Ruth assisted him in very many ways.

Old Mage and little Tid-i-wats lived out the span of earthly life allotted to each one of them, beneath the tender eye and ready hand of her who loved them both, and, when the time that had been set for them to leave this world behind them, came, Ruth Wakefield staid beside them to the very last, and ministered to them as no one else would ever do.

The man she'd found had named her well when he said "Tender Heart!" to her, that night upon the battle-field.

Her heart was very tender, always, except with reference to herself; she often did upbraid herself and never gave herself much credit; she often mourned, in secret, over her few brief memories of the wild, impulsive, almost insane, so-called love of him she'd married in her untried youth; she often said:

"Poor Boy! Poor, lost and misled Boy! I ought to have treated him far differently than I did; his earthly path crossed mine for some good reason, I presume; and I did not do all the things I might have done, when I was near enough to help him, for him ... yet ..." she always ended, "I did the very best I could do for him, it seemed to me, at the time I had the opportunity, and I always meant and prayed to do just right. I went wrong, somehow ... or he had gone too far along a certain road before I ever met him for me to turn him back ... anyway, I pity him with all my heart and hope that he is happy where he's gone.... I hope he's found the very place he belongs in.... I know I always think of him with tender pity and no resentment, although, according to the standards of the world, he did me grievous wrong. Poor lost and misled Boy! He often looked so sad and desperate ... I wish I had done better by him while I had the chance."

Her tender heart was uppermost in almost all she did except when she was doing for herself, and, then, she'd say:

"My tastes are very simple ... I do not need very much of this world's goods ... it takes so very little happiness to make me almost wild with joy.... I've had to look on sorrow often, and, when I come to Joy, I bask in it as if it were God's holy sunshine."

But, if it should be that old Mage or Tid-i-wats or anyone of all of those who were dependent on her, from time to time, for she, somehow always seemed to accumulate those who needed her help round her, why, then it was quite different to Tender Heart ... then, she'd say and say with vigor:

"Of _course_ I can arrange to have it that way! Why, certainly, if that would bring happiness, I'll fix it right away."

And sure enough she would arrange it, no matter what it meant for her of loneliness or labor ... no matter if she had to go along a lonely road that had been full of peace and happiness for her before the one who left her lonely had come into her daily life and made it hard for her, in that way, while the days were going by, yet made a grievous change again, in going; she set her teeth and did the things she had to do to make the other person happy, or to do the things he said would make him happy, then she turned her face toward her own life, cheerfully, although her hours were often very sad and lonely.

But this was all before she met the man whose life she'd helped to save upon that battle-field ... all before she'd lost her cherished home and built another one. From that time on unto the end of earthly life for her, she found sweet satisfaction and content, for she had found a steadfast love to lean upon, a strong and true and virile human being, whose tastes were similar to hers, who loved his native land, America, with all his heart, as she did, too.

It heartens all humanity to meet a happy pair who are congenial.

It gives all other human beings courage to go on upon the path that has been set for them to go upon, to know that there is happiness if only they could find the way to reach it.

Estrella soon forgot the handsome lover over whom she mourned so bitterly; the memory of him soon became a wild, sweet dream, and had she met him as he was in San Domingo, after she had found her proper place in life, it is probable that she would have turned away from him; life's contrasts have so much to do with early love that it is often difficult to know what love is really like; Estrella, when she was an unknown waif, was differently placed than she was later on. Victorio Colenzo would not have seemed the same to her that he did when she was but an unknown, simple girl; education made a change in her ... her sister looked to that. She grew to be a splendid woman, in very many ways, and married one who was her peer.

Poor little Tessa seems the most forlorn of all the characters in this book. She tried so hard and failed so utterly in almost all she ever