Part 3

Likewise was Cedric Troubled by the change he saw in Zola. She loved Gilbert--loved him wildly, madly. She had watched him when he knew it not, and Knew that he loved her; but frightened at the Thought, was minded to keep the secret Locked in her own breast and fly from him; so Timidly she asked if some day they might Go away, and sailing o’er the ocean Find another home. Cedric answered, “Yes, Some day.” He had long expected this and Unknown to her, had in a way, prepared Her for the change. From that lone mountain top Letters had been sent to shops and houses Of the east, and yearly in return had Come by Indian carriers from the port Clothing for himself and Zola, made to Measure sent, and always in their study Hours they dressed resplendently, that she might Grace a drawing-room and feel at ease--not Show that she in wilderness was reared. She had mastered music and languages In travel needed most, and was withal A finished scholar. Not for himself but Her, he feared to take her hence--knew full well That one so beautiful would soon be wooed, And he had never told her of the cloud That hung around her birth--the cloud of Mystery. As for himself, he loved her All the better for it--she blameless--he In tenderness postponed the hour; but the Longer left undone, he dreading knew that One day it must come; in honor must he Speak--must tell her, though it break her heart, to Know that he was not her father. Often Did he wish that in her childhood had he Told her all. Yet, in his weakness, promised Her that some day they would go: “Yes; some day.”

Gilbert, growing wise in woodcraft and in The art of making love, on the farther Side went up the mountain, rode Leo up The winding trail; Zola watching, waited Disappointed while he--galloping o’er the Table-land--came on Cedric busy in His garden. They with kindly greeting met, Conversing, found each the other to his Liking. He too manly to dissemble, Gilbert came out openly: The one so Coy and beautiful, was she his daughter? Cedric troubled, sternly answered: “She is mine, Indeed, my Zola.” How learned the young man of Her presence on the mountain? Had he met Her? Had they met clandestinely? Gilbert, Speaking plainly, said: Tho’ strangers, Yet they knew each other well; he long had Worship’d her afar; well she knew and well Had she evaded him. Now, at last, had He found the one to ask if he might meet and Woo her, would he give consent? Cedric saw His good intent, sincerity and truth, Looked upon him with the feeling of the Father for the son. Then like a phantom Came that secret terror of his life,--he Spoke unlike himself--severe, unkindly. “She obeys her father’s will and he would Will that she remain unseen, unknown To strange intruder. The young man makes bold In asking.”

Answered Gilbert, manfully: “May not a true heart be emboldened by The hope of winning one so beautiful? The asking honorable? Perchance the Señor has himself in days gone by made Like request?” Spoke of his family Old and honored, lived on the Gilbert rancho In the valley. Would he offer them rebuke Unwittingly? Cedric by his words the More determined they should never meet, for Zola’s sake and his, resolved to flee With her, so spoke deceitfully. He must Go and wait six days and on the seventh Come; if she were there then he might speak with Her. Gilbert said respectfully: “’Tis well! With such a hope I well may add to my Long waiting one more week.” And with a smile Of hopefulness, he rode away. Cedric Pitying, watched him disappear among The ceanothus bloom and drooping boughs.

Zola coming, on her face the look of Sadness,--signs of weeping,--Cedric knowing Now the secret of the change in her--the Absence of the rippling laughter noticed In the months gone by--his kind heart melted And well-nigh did he repent and tell her All, tell Gilbert; but the specter haunting Fixed his purpose; she must go or face a Deeper sorrow. So, despite his feeling, Smilingly and cheerful, told her they would Go and sail across the ocean--sail to Foreign lands. Thus seeking to beguile and Turn her from the tie that bound her heart to Palomar, spake he of the people and The sights that they would see. Long had they Remained in Nature’s parlor; now going, Would they view the halls and palaces of Splendor they had read about. She smiling Sadly, kissed and thanked him for his kindness.

She daily strolled where she had seen the face Of Gilbert, vainly waiting with the hope That he would come once more--pensively, with Tears--and prayed that she might see him once Again before she went away. The sun From out its saffron-tinted bed burst forth And kissed the mountain peaks. She weeping, heard The matin song of birds and cooing doves, The melody of Nature’s minstrelsy-- Heard, and yet not heard, for today must she Decide among her treasures, which to take And which to leave behind. Came Zimbo and Her pets for breakfast from her hand, the last But one, for early on the morrow she Would go. “Shall we never come again to This dear spot?” she asked. Cedric feigning Cheerfulness, his sadness ill-concealed,--ran On assuringly: “Of course, we will return And rest from our long journey ’round the world; Come, bring your bric-a-brac, my girl, and we Will pack it snugly in the cabin, bar The doors and leave all safe and sound. We may Find Zimbo and the other pets all waiting When we come. Cheer up, my darling; dry your Tears, for wondrous sights are waiting for those Eyes to feast upon.” Thus talking, while he Packed her treasures in the hidden cabin.

THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.

Gilbert, sleepless, counted yet the slowly Dragging hours--three more days, and then The promised one; pondered o’er the words of That strange man on Palomar,--words so oft Repeated: “If she be here, then you may Speak with her.” “_If she be here!_” Their meaning-- His intention--dawned upon him. “She will _Not be there!_” In frantic haste he rose and Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks; His adolescent blood in angry throbs, His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric.

On the slope he saw the tethered burros, Well-filled packs and camping equipage near By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’ He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric Placing bars before the door, and Zola By his side. At sight of him came bounding Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head Uncovered--bowed, as one in reverential Attitude before a shrine--addressed her: “We have been acquainted long, if not by Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter, He may tell you of his promise--explain The breaking--doubting not his motive, I Believe him kind and true.”

“_Calls you daughter!_” Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor Swept across his kindly face. The time had Come when he must speak--must tell the secret Of his life--her life. Then he recited All that he remembered,--Zola’s unknown Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that She be taken; how he had suffered with The dread of making known to her that he Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion Setting all aside, she sprang to him and Clinging, cried: “_He is my own dear father!_” Her dazzling beauty now intensified.

As one enchanted, Gilbert looked upon The scene; such filial love revealed a depth Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those Who called him son--what they had done for him-- And of the promise he had made to them. Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride Of name and family might they not spurn This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed His love for her was satisfied; fortune, Name and family were all as naught to Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and Winning, give to her his name.

“No, no,” she Answered for the father, “until this cloud Is lifted--mystery solved--my name is Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he Had promised would he go back to the states And seek a bride, solve the mystery and Return triumphant, claim her--his Zola-- As his bride. Would take the ship now in The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory Yielded meagerly of information Needed. He well remembered all his life _Up to_ the day that he left Lola at Her father’s home, and _from_ the day she died, The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank. Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this Day your life shall be a pattern for my Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed Him aside and whispered: “The father, if He be found, pray name her not to him.” From The mountain top she watched him out of sight; Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s Daughter wept.

When their only son went forth To seek a bride--to keep his vow--there was Great rejoicing at the Gilbert rancho.

GILBERT’S JOURNEY.

After journey long and wearisome, he Reached the Crescent City and the home of Colonel Vail. The aged man now mellowed By weight of years, remorseful, mourning And alone, received him kindly, answered: “Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he was Murdered by a Mexican upon the Dock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake. The man who loved my daughter came and found her Dying. ’Twas he who took the child away, And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had the Story of her life--her name was Zola Blake.

With heavy heart he homeward turned, yet No less loyal to his Zola. With sad Misgivings waited for the coming of The ship--long overdue--by stormy sea Kept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; he Must go and bear the tidings that would solve The mystery of her name, but leave a Darker shadow than before. Still would she Refuse his name they would go away from Palomar. They at the rancho, left so Happily, what would he say to them? At Last with tattered sail and broken, came The ship. He hastening, learned that it would Lay at anchor there yet two days more in Mending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire to Linger there, again he visited the Hospital where Zola’s mother died; but As before, no voice could answer aught of Her; yet caught a thread of hope--an aged Priest in near-by parish _might_ remember.

The father heard him,--listened eagerly; Then in his book of records found the date When Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed; And the christening of her daughter--their child. Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola, The treasure he had brought from Mexico, Lola’s diary, presents he had given, And a miniature of Cedric done by Her own hand; then to the house where they were Married and her resting place. Gilbert took The proof to Colonel Vail and together They rejoiced. He begged that he would bring his Grandchild there when they were wed, and Cedric Vaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that true Man. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attuned By hope’s fruition, Nature brought a new Glad song. The bird notes rang with sweeter Melody--sunshine brighter--bluer skies-- Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’s Depth, he read the mirrored light of love and Joy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath a Tropic sun,--in calm, or fog, or buffeted By winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’ The mild Pacific’s purple haze, Point Loma came in view and then, across the Mesa, to the hacienda, _home again_.

With mysterious air, and teasing told, Or partly told the story. Yes; he had Found a fairy queen and when again the Great round moon came o’er the mountain top, she, Riding on its silvery beams, would come in State,--would come with him--come to the rancho. They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, wait Patiently. So he left them wondering.

CONCLUSION.

To Palomar he flew--told all that he Had learned--laid the proof before them--described The house where Cedric lived--told of the battle on The dock--how Morales died--the bags of Gold from Mexico. Thus aided, Cedric Woke as from a dream, remembered all; then Placing Zola’s hand in his, withdrew to Be alone with sacred memories.

Hand In hand the lovers blissful roved among The crags and overhanging boughs where she Had watched unseen, for him. Led him thro’ the Brake, in forest solitudes, where lemon Lilies nestling grow, and clinging vines And nodding ceanothus plumes bedrape The foliage in Nature’s millinery.

With love and kisses roamed until the day When proudly and triumphant, Gilbert led Them thro’ the avenues of spreading palms and Vine-clad arches of the hacienda. His mother welcomed her with tears of joy, “Her daughter”--then met the fathers--met in Glad surprise--for Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee stood face to face; again renewed the Old time bonds of love and friendship made the Stronger.

Then came another presence on The scene. Radiant in the ripened bloom Of womanhood--as beautiful as in The happy days of old--came Dora Lee To welcome Cedric Vaughn and Lola’s child.

On the Gilbert rancho (named for him), in the Dreamy quiet of a summer eve, while Softly chimed the distant mission bells, At the hacienda, sweet Zola Vaughn And Gilbert Lee were wed. And when the Autumn came, and vine, and bough and field gave Forth their richest fruitage, and falling leaves Betokened ripeness--the sure reward Of patient waiting--two faithful souls were Joined as one. Again rang forth the silvery Chime of wedding bells--old mission bells--that Echoed from the gilded cross above its Hoary walls, a benediction sweet as Incense from its altars.

Long, long ago Back to the happy scenes of youth they sailed, And left the hidden cabin to decay.

* * * * *

A New Book

Up the Grade

BY

DAVID W. EDWARDS

_Author of_

“_The Hidden Cabin_,” “_Billy Birdsall_,” _etc._

A strong romance, natural and absorbing.

It has a special message to young men.

Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages.

The hero is a fine type of manhood.

A healthful and helpful story with inspiration to human betterment.

_Illustrated, $1.50 At all Book Stores_

The C. M. Clark Publishing Company BOSTON, MASS.