Part 2

This man had urged his Suit until she had exhausted all the Harmless arts of womanhood to evade His coarse advances, praying daily that Her Cedric would return; when he boldly Claimed her hand, she told him, “No;” he bro’t her Father who commanded that she wed him; She, helpless in their hands, had pled for time-- One more year; then, if Cedric had not come, Her answer they should have. One day she, in An arbor half hidden in the trellis, Had heard her father’s overseer, Ben Rubideaux, and Simon Blake make bargain That for a sum the overseer would watch For Cedric and murder him if he should Come. She knew he did not fear them all, but For her sake, she begged him not to venture There. She gave a number in the city Where he would find a friend, a lady friend, Of hers. It was arranged that she should come For her. Then, as his lawful wife, he could Defend her and himself, if needs must be. ’Twere best that he should come with pistols, armed; Ben Rubideaux and Blake were desperate And wicked men. She wrote, fearing lest her Letters would not be received; since he left, She had received no word from him; she knew That he would write, but they had come between.

THE WEDDING.

This plan was not to Cedric’s liking for He would fain have gone openly and claimed His bride, but for her sake he acquiesced, And in his servant’s name he took a house, A lovely house, in quiet place apart. There Lola came, and as the light of slow Descending sun proclaimed the dying day, And zephyrs laden with the breath of bloom And tuneful with the song of mocking bird, Were wafted from the sea, then from the mission Came the parish priest, and in soft accents Of the Spanish tongue, pronounced the holy Words that made them one. No other witness Than his servant and her friend. And there thro’ Long and dreamy, blissful days, they passed their Honeymoon.

Morales, with his native Instinct, saw that danger hovered over Cedric; and, unknown to him, he shadowed All his steps. One night a messenger in Haste came to the door, told Cedric that his Servant was in trouble, needed him; he Went, not knowing that his faithful Jose Shadowed them. When near the water front the Stranger fled; and from the cotton bales and Freightage piled upon the dock, two ruffians Sprang on Cedric. When the light of morning Dawned, the lifeless forms of Simon Blake, Ben Rubideaux and poor Morales were found Lying on the bloody dock.

All night Lola Paced the floor in anguish, list’ning for the Footsteps that came not. Nor knew she of the Tragedy until she read: “Murdered! In the Night! Two citizens of high repute shot down! But not until one of the murderers (A bearded foreigner) was killed by them. The other has escaped, but the mob is On his track and he will soon be taken.” The paper gave a good description of Her husband, which she doubted not, was given By the man who called for him. If she should Speak, it would bring harm to Cedric; he might Escape and come to her; so, taking hope, With one trusty servant she in hiding Waited there. Her friend had gone and no one Knew of her abiding place.

The weary Weeks and months rolled by; she pined, and passing Near the gates of death, awoke to find a Blue-eyed baby by her side--the child of Cedric’s dreams. The months passed by and still No word from Cedric came. She, yielding to Her grief and drooping, faded as a flower That withering in decadence fades away. The rosy seraph sent--so kindly sent-- From heaven to be the precious idol of Her solitude, and his, grew strong and more Angelic as the passing days went by.

When the ruffians from the darkness sprang on Cedric, with ready shot, the foremost fell; But the bludgeon of the other laid him Low; then, as the fatal blow was falling, Morales coming, threw himself between; And in deadly combat grappled with Ben Rubideaux. With bowie knives they struggled, Each receiving fatal thrusts, nor yielded Until weak from loss of blood, they parting Fell; Morales’ bowie buried in the Heart of Rubideaux. Cedric lay for hours, Unconscious; then, his strength returning, he Rose, and dazed, bewildered, groped along the Frontage, stag’ring like a drunken man; the Stevedores thought him one returning from a Night’s debauch. He in the early morning, Came where a boat was loosening its cables From the wharf; and unnoticed, stumbled on And fell among the luggage in a swoon.

THE MYSTIC TOKEN.

The boat--bound for the Indies--was well out On the gulf before they found and lifted Him; nor knew they of the tragedy upon The dock, or that he was hunted as a Murderer. They finding on his person The token of a craft which they reveréd, They cared for him and left him safely in An island city of the Southern Sea. There his brother craftsmen gathering round him, Nursing--raised him--raised him as one from the Dead. From the “Valley of the Shadows” brought Him forth to perfect health and vigor; but Alas! the silken cord that erstwhile bound Him to the past, was broken! _Memory Was gone!_ Nor, with active mind and clear, could He recall the past, tell his name or whence He came. He strove to lift the veil and look Beyond the wall of night that intervened. That cruel blow had caused a lesion of The brain--a lapse of memory complete. As the wire that bears the hidden current Broken, swaying in the breeze, connecting Sends a gleam across the night, so at times Bright gleams of memory, almost taking Shape, would light his way; then leaving him in Greater darkness, would as quickly fly away.

Gradually came before his sight, as Dimly seen thro’ nebulae, the outlines Of a form and face came from the misty Moonlight of the past. At last, came back to Him, that picture which had made the deepest Imprint on his mind--his Lola, as he Saw her standing by her father’s side. But When was this? And where? And who was she? By exercise of all the strength of his Great will, her name once more came back to him, And then her father’s; then the city where They lived; and then it was borne in on him That she was his betrothed; that he had gone To that fair isle to make a home for her. Now, having gained the wherewithal, he could Go and bring her. With this thought, the flame of Love rekindled blazed anew, as clearly He remembered those six happy days of Love with her--what she said, his promises; And now--his hot blood leaping to the call, He hastened on his way. Arriving there, He straightway went to find her father’s Home and claim her as he swore to do the Day he left her there. The Colonel met him With a scornful smile and said: “So you have Come? You may have her, if you wish for such As she.” Breaking forth in rage, he cried--with Oaths--“Go! Find her at the hospital”--he Told the driver where--“Go! Find her with her Child of shame; they are good enough for you! I care not if she fills a harlot’s grave.”

THE STOLEN CHILD.

Cedric, smitten almost to the death, bade The driver go with haste. He found her and She, smiling, whispered low: “My Cedric, you Have come to meet me. Is this heaven?” then placed The baby hand in his and falling back, She was _indeed in heaven_. Cedric, tearless, For a moment stood as one struck dumb; then Took the baby in his arms. She too young To understand, or lisp her mother’s name Or his, as though instinctively, she threw Her rosy arms about his neck and kissed Him. Then confiding, laid her golden curls Upon his breast. The nurses, thinking him A base deserter, hoping he at least Would own the child, and seeing him caress It--placed tenderly its costly wrappings ’Round, and quickly packed its ample clothing, Gave it him. He kissed the marble brow and Turning to the one who had the right to Speak for all, he inquired about the rites And ceremonies of her faith, “Were they Performed?” “Yes,” the matron said, “the good priest Has been often by her side, left her just Before you came; the one who married her.”

He paced the hall and pondered, mystified. What he had heard and seen had set his brain Awhirl. So she was married! Then to whom? Her husband might at any moment come And claim his child--claim Lola’s child--he quick Resolved to take the babe and give his life To her--to care for her, for Lola’s sake; For she was Lola’s child, if not his own. They must not know that he was not the one Who married her. He must not see the priest. He, in his frenzy, cast aside all thought Of right or wrong--decided he would Steal--yea, lie or even die before that One who had deserted her should have her Child. He gave them gold, and speaking calmly, (Falsely, too, as he supposed) said: “Tell them Her husband ordered that her last resting Place shall be a mausoleum grand, and To him you gave the child--the one to whom It rightfully belongs; say that he loved Her to the last, and would that he had died; That she had mourned for him--not he for her.” Then, with a farewell kiss, he took the child, Believing he was stealing it away. The baby clung to him and was content.

But for the child his life had ended there; Then there had been no tie to bind, no one To love. The past almost a blank, and in The future no alluring hope, he fain Had snap’d the slender thread of life, to be With Lola evermore. Or, had he been One of the weaker kind, complaining at His fate, he had perchance by slower Process, ended all in low debauchery.

THE WANDERERS.

But those confiding arms, that baby kiss Upon his cheek, sent thro’ the aisles of his Great, generous heart, a flood of newborn Love. To part with her would be indeed to Part with life itself. He, thinking quickly And as quickly acting, fled--took the first Ship that sailed, nor asking whither it was Bound; rejoicing when it cleared the dock and Seaward turned its prow. When learning that its Course lay to the north, he changed to one bound For the South Sea Isles.

Sailing to and fro, The changing seasons passed while they upon The ocean cruised like wanderers without A guide; he thinking only of his charge, And where he, in her tender years, the Best could care for her. Willing hands he found-- Mothers’ hands outstretched to take the cherub From his arms. She, growing, Cedric saw in Her the image of her mother--the same Blue eyes and wavy hair which fell about Her shoulders; high arching brows and lashes Long but darker shaded, like his own. He Had thought to call her Lola; but when the Stranger asked her name, she lisping answered, “Zola,” he left it so.

Tho’ long before The day when ox-carts plowed their dusty way Across the plains to reach the sun land slopes, The Eldorado of the west, he knew Of that fair land beside the sunset sea-- That sunny, southern California. There they would go, where none would ever hear The story of the stolen, nameless child; And where the recreant father ne’er would Come. There would he seek and find in sylvan Quietude, the sweetest spot where Mother Nature reigns and in her lap, among the Birds and flowers, would she be reared in spotless Purity--educated--taught by him-- As wise men of the olden times received Their learning from the doctors of the law.

Thitherward they sailed; and thro’ the rocky Gateways of the cape--tho’ roughly shaken-- Safely passed; then to the north thro’ calmer Waters, borne by Etesian winds, oft-times Delayed by traffic at the ports, or on A glassy sea becalmed. And once their ship Was overtaken by an ugly craft That bore the pirates’ flag; and every man On board was called to arms; then they were Well nigh overwhelmed and taken. Cedric, Joining with the crew, fought valiantly. Thro’ The thickest of the battle, Zola clung To him. When they would have taken her below, She cried, “Let me stay wiz papa; if he Go, zen me go too.” Cedric answered, “Be It so; we live or die together.” But Their fears were turned to great rejoicing when A shot crashed thro’ the pirate craft. They sailed Away and left it sinking in the deep.

Cedric, by his bravery and coolness In the time of danger, won respect and Friendship of officers and crew. When they Left him at the mission of the holy Padres, on the bay of San Diego, Loaded him with costly presents, forced them On him, presents for himself and Zola. The angelic child had won the hearts of all.

Cedric told the good Franciscan fathers He was going northward overland, and Joyously he set about preparing For the journey, she ever at his side, With childish prattle, asking, “What is zis?” “What is zat?” and “What for?” He answering Cheerfully and evermore explaining-- Teaching her.

In her sweet companionship And the certainty of keeping her, he Laid aside his sadness and became as Light of heart and happy as herself. At Last they were all ready to begin their Wild and free nomadic life--a dozen Gentle burros, packed with all that they might Need for months to come; a tent with costly Furs and rugs, and blankets of bright colors Bo’t from the Indians, with toys and gaudy Trinkets; a snow-white pony, showily Equip’d with Spanish bit and bridle, Upon its back a basket, sedan-like, With crimson canopy, lined with softest Silken draperies, for his “Gypsy queen.” A princess of the Romany was ne’er Provided with such luxuries as she.

In the early morning, long before the Ringing of the mission bells, Zola and Her strange retinue set forth; the pony, With its precious burden, led by Cedric’s Hand; then came the white milk goats with tinkling Bells; to the sound, the meek-faced burros, trained To follow, trailed patiently behind; and Then a faithful shepherd dog to keep them All in line. They moved by easy stages, Stopping often in some shady dell to Rest and let their burros feed upon the Grassy slopes. Then would Zola gather flowers, Or chase the yellow butterflies, with shouts Of childish glee that echoed thro’ the glen; To him a sweeter music than the chime Of great cathedral bells or orchestra.

IN THE MOUNTAINS.

They exploring, crossed the great Cuyamaca Range, traversed its broad plateaus, and thro’ the Silence of its lofty domes and canyons; Then beyond, where boiling waters gurgling Flowed thro’ Indian villages. They saw The waving pines upon the lofty crest Of Palomar; and wandering, vainly sought Along its base for passage leading to Its heights. They often reached an eminence, And thought they neared the goal, when overhanging Walls of granite turned them back. At last, by Persevering, came upon its table- Lands; and pressing forward found the place he Long had pictured in his mind--the sheltering Boughs of giant trees, the gushing fountain, Level plot of fertile land below, well Watered by the rivulets that trickled From the springs. Here he sowed the garden seeds And grain; and from the chaparral he bro’t The antlered buck and lesser game. The sweets The toiling honey bee had stored away, Drip’d from the boles of sycamore and oak. They happy lived in Nature’s luxury.

Lest in their quietude he might become Indifferent or wasteful of the time, He took up an ancient system which they Faithfully observed thro’ all their years of Hermitage--eight hours for labor, eight for Rest, and eight for study and improvement Of his mind, and teaching Zola.

He was The builder of the hidden cabin; for Zola it was builded, for her boudoir. With loving hands, he axe and auger plied, Without compass, square or trestle board, But with all the tenderness that ever Mother bird provided for her nestling. He building, furnished it with draperies-- Bright Indian blankets, rugs and robes of Fur, arranging all as beautiful as Tho’ her mother’s spirit hands had guided His. Perchance they did. If love be spirit, And spirit love--or soul--then such as hers Might overleap the balustrades of Heaven and find its own; or such unselfish Soul as his might rise and view the palace Of the skies. He teaching, opened first the Book of Nature, and strolled with her among The flowers and botanized. Then to the rocks; He told her of the slow formations of The ages. From the books selected in The days when she was cradled on the sea, He, in learning, carried her beyond her Years.

“PEG LEG, THE MINER.”

They marked the changing moons until a Score had glided by and yet had seen no Other human face save one--and he, an Honest miner whom they found in sorry Plight, with broken limb, where he had fallen From an overhanging ledge. They succored Him until, returned to strength, he rose with One limb twisted hopelessly. They made--as Best they could--a wooden substitute, and Strap’d with buckskin bandage, he soon learned to Use it cleverly. Jokingly, he called Himself “Peg-leg, the miner.” He told them Of a mine that out upon the desert He had found, where three large buttes stood side by Side. Cedric gave him burros from his herd, And packs, and sent him on his way. He came Again with well-filled sacks of pellets round As shot and black as ebony, which proved To be pure gold. He left it there, and leaving, Nevermore returned. Miners to this day In vain have sought that “Peg-leg Mine,” and those Three buttes; and some have left their bones to bleach Upon the desert sand. The miner told Them of a nearer passage, a hidden Trail, that led downward to the valley. They Going, tarried there and Cedric sent the Indians to the mission for supplies.

Once a cougar sprang across their path with Blazing eyes and crouching for a spring; when Cedric sent a bullet thro’ its brain; and From its den he took a pair of baby Mountain lions, made orphans by the shot. Zola, pitying, took them home and one, Surviving, grew to monstrous size, became Obedient to her command, and like A faithful watch dog, followed her. She Called him Zimbo. Other pets she had--white Kids of silken fleece, birds and animals, But Zimbo was the monarch of them all.

As the circling years went ’round and she could See beyond the golden morning of her Sunny life the ripening noonday coming On, she longed to see the world beyond her Mountain home; but named it not to Cedric. With her years she grew more fearless, wild and Venturesome. With Zimbo and her rifle, She scaled the dizzy heights of rock and crag Where condors built their nests, and knew the Devious windings of the wild doe’s trail, Thro’ manzanita groves and chaparral. In a seat of granite, nature fashioned, Like a throne, shaded by a giant oak Upon a summit looking oceanward, She would sit in dreamy mood and watch the Silvery line of surf that fringed the far-off Fading stretch of blue. Once she saw a sail Appear, then slowly vanish in the offing; And in the quiet of an early morn, She heard the low sweet chime of mission bells.

GILBERT.

To that same port where Cedric landed with His Zola, others came from distant parts. Some came to seek their fortunes, others came To buy and till the soil, some to obey The inborn instinct of the pioneer. One family, leaving all behind, had bro’t A sickly child. Rich and prosperous they Had been, and with children blessed; but a dread Contagion had swept them all away save One; and he, left delicate and frail, the Idol of their hopes--no other left to Keep the family name. From those who best could Speak, they learned there was no hope unless it be In taking him to that fair, sunny clime. They hastened there and gave him for his home A quaint old hacienda of the Dons; With many leagues of land that lay between The mountains and the sea. There amid the Orange groves and vineyards, in the freedom Of the range where roamed his father’s flocks and Herds, young Gilbert soon became a gay young Caballero--grew as strong and fearless As vaqueros of the range--could twirl the Lariat or aim the rifle true as they.

Sunburned, strong and handsome was Gilbert, in Showy costume of the Dons, with clanking Spurs, gold-mounted trappings on his coal-black Leo, ambling thro’ the massive arches Of the mission. Señoritas smiled on Him; he returned their loving glances. This His parents seeing, feared their Angelo Blood be mixed with that of darker hue, besought Him to return to their old home and there To find a bride of his own faith and kind. He quieted their fears and said that he Was wedded to the mesa and the hills. He loved the mountains more than ever Bridegroom loved his bride, his heart was free; But kind and true and dutiful to them, He promised solemnly that he would do As they desired before he took a wife; For ne’er could he repay the love and care By them bestowed on him, their sacrifice.

Foremost in all manly sports, he reckless Rode along the beach where foaming breakers Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between. His black horse was known on El Camino Real--far beyond the shady groves of Monte Vista. He loved the mountains And on their bosom laid his head beneath The starlit skies, companion of their silence, Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness Could he thread the winding Indian trail Across the high Cuyamacas, and often Had he reached the base of Palomar, and Longed to see beyond its frowning granite Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to The summit--came where a deep-walled canyon held Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted Brilliancy.

ZOLA AND ZIMBO.

Upon a shelving rock near By, a being of angelic beauty Stood; posed statue-like, her eyes fix’t on the Distant sea; one hand spread gracefully Across her brow, the other holding back A monster mountain lion that crouching At her feet, lay watching him; a robe of Softest fabric, yielding to the breeze, revealed The ample fulness of her shapely form; Caught back by strand of sparkling gems, a mass Of golden hair fell nearly to her feet. She unconscious of his presence, Gilbert Stood in speechless adoration, as one Entranced,--lost in wonderment. Who was this Personage divine? This apparition Come to him on that lone mountain side? Was She some fairy elf come to bewitch him? Some mountain sprite? Or angel from the throne? With throbbing temples, arms outstretched, as tho’ He fain would leap the chasm that lay between, Pressed slowly to its edge. The lion rising Angrily to spring, she saw him standing There and vanished from his sight. Then from the Rocks, he heard her voice call softly, sternly: “Come, Zimbo, come! _Come here!_” The spell was Broken; by those words in his own tongue He knew that she was of the earth--one like Himself--and not a native of that land.

Day after day did he return to that Same spot and, waiting patient, watch for her; Once for a moment saw her on the heights, And again, he saw the eyes of that great Lion fixed on him and knew that she was Near. Like knight of old he scaled the highest Peaks and stood upon the spot her feet had Pressed. With throbbing pulse and palpitating Heart he followed in pursuit. The kindly Rocks revealed no tell-tale foot prints where her Feet had touched them in her flight. The summer Wore away and autumn came again; yet She cunningly evaded him. Growing Desperate, he traversed all the length and Breadth of Palomar; at times he heard her Voice in song, heard her speak to Zimbo, she Near him; for a precious moment saw her, But in finesse she more than equalled him.

Gilbert’s parents missed his merry laugh and Jest; marvelled at his absence; feared that He was ill and questioned him. He told them He was hunting in the mountains, but he Mentioned not the object of his quest; misled Them by tales of condor’s nest and mountain Lion he had seen.