CHAPTER XX

The Return to the Mission.

Let us now rejoin Inez and Monteagle whom we left on their road to the Mission.

What powerful sensations of unspeakable delight rushed through the veins of Inez, and monopolized every feeling of her heart, when those scenes which she had never expected to behold again, once more burst upon her vision. The tumult of rapturous and conflicting ideas that darted to her brain, were almost overwhelming, and, although her tongue was eager to give expression to her sentiments, the strength of her emotions would not permit her to give utterance to a single syllable. She looked in the countenance of her lover with an expression of the most unbounded affection and delight, and she fully perceived that he reciprocated her feelings. Tears filled his eyes, and taking her hand he pressed it to his lips with eloquent silence.

Not the slightest change appeared to have taken place in everything upon which the eyes of our heroine rested, since last she had gazed upon those well known scenes. The bright beams of a silvery moon were shining serenely upon every thing around, and a melancholy silence, so consonant with her own state of mind, prevailed. But, alas, she reflected, what a change had taken place in the home of her childhood! That home which had once abounded in every happiness that the human mind could wish for, was now the abode of sorrow; that fond parent, whose every joy and hope were centered in her, was a maniac and would be insensible to the felicity of her restoration to his arms.

This last thought was too afflicting for endurance, and overcome by her emotion she leant her head upon the bosom of Monteagle, and burst into an hysterical flood of tears.

In vain did Monteagle endeavor to tranquilize her feelings, he felt how powerful was the cause she had for sorrow, and the anguish he endured was scarcely less than her own.

Joaquin exerted himself to the utmost to calm the feelings of them both, and he at length succeeded.

Monteagle, we should have mentioned before, had taken the precaution to send forward a person to the Mission, with a letter, making them briefly acquainted with the fortunate meeting which had taken place between him and our heroine, and of their coming, so that the surprise might not be too sudden for them; and they were, therefore, fully aware that they would exert themselves to the utmost to meet the unexpected pleasure which awaited them; the more especially as the precarious and lamentable situation of Senor de Castro rendered the greatest care necessary.

At length the elegant, but unostentatious, mansion, burst upon their vision, and Providence imbued the mind of Inez with a calm feeling of joy, which she had never experienced before. Everything seemed to dance before her eyes to welcome her return to that once happy home, and the horses appeared to move with the most tedious slowness, as they cantered along the road which led to the garden gates.

They reached those gates; they were already open, and standing to receive them were beings endeared to them by every affectionate and grateful feeling.

Let not the too presumptuous pen attempt to describe the scene which followed, language is by far too weak to convey any idea of it. Tears, sobs, and broken sentences of unbounded transport, burst from the overcharged bosoms of each individual; and then Inez felt herself led along the avenue which conducted to the hall.

Although her eyes were dimmed by tears, and her thoughts were so fully occupied, our heroine could yet behold several of the old domestics standing in the path, who, as she passed, raised their hands and eyes towards Heaven, and gave utterance to their simple, but forcible, exclamations of gratitude to the Most High for the restoration of their ‘dear young lady’ to her home and friends.

Another moment and Inez found herself in the well known parlor, endeared to her by so many fond remembrances and associations; and sinking on her knees, she clasped her hands fervently towards Heaven, and gave full vent to the expression of her ardent and spontaneous ejaculations of thanksgiving to the Almighty disposer of all events for her deliverance.

No one offered to interrupt her, they were also too much occupied with the feelings of astonishment and unspeakable delight that filled their bosoms. But at length, Inez having ended her solemn prayer, suddenly arose from her knees, and looking eagerly around the room, she said:

‘But where is he? He is not here! Where is the poor old man—that he is not present to snatch his unfortunate daughter once more to his heart, and weep his tears of joy upon her bosom! My father—my poor, dear father; where is he?’

‘My dear Inez,’ replied the Padre; ‘I can fully appreciate the anxiety of your feelings; but pray endeavor to restrain them. Your father has retired to his chamber and sleeps—do not disturb him lest—’

‘And think you,’ interrupted our heroine, with the most violent emotion depicted in her countenance; ‘think you that I can rest calmly one moment without beholding that unfortunate, that doting parent from whom I have been so long and so cruelly separated? No—no—no—I will go to him; not an instant—’

Quickly up the stairs which led to the well known chamber of her father, our heroine bounded, but when she arrived at the door, she paused; a deathlike faintness came over her, she breathed short, and she was unable to move a step further.

Monteagle and others entreated her to return to the parlor, and to defer the trying scene till the morning, but she answered them by a look which fully convinced them of her determination, and they therefore desisted.

In a few moments she partially recovered herself, but still she had not sufficient courage or resolution to enter the chamber.

She stood and listened, supported by the arm of her lover, and her ears caught the sound of the breathing of the patient, every respiration going to her heart like a stream of fire.

In a moment the breathing sounds ceased, and all was still as death.

‘He sleeps, he sleeps, and probably dreams of her who—’

‘Hark! hark!’ hastily interrupted our heroine; ‘those sounds—do listen;—those words—those words—my heart will burst!’

They listened with breathless attention, and Monteagle supported the form of Inez, in a state of agony too powerful for description. In low and plaintive tones, sufficient to draw tears from the eyes of the most insensible individual, the unfortunate de Castro was singing, apparently in his sleep, the words of a song Inez had so often sung to please him, and which brought to the memory many powerful and agonizing recollections.

‘God! God! support me!’ gasped forth Inez, clinging to the arm of her lover, and her whole frame convulsed with anguish.

‘Father! father! dear, dear father! I can bear no more,’ cried Inez; and tearing herself from the hold of Monteagle, she rushed into the chamber, and darted to the side of the bed.

Senor de Castro was sitting up in the bed when Inez entered the room, and was staring vacantly around him. His countenance had undergone little or no perceptible change; the ruddy glow of health was on his cheeks, and so calm and serene was its expression, that it seemed almost impossible that his mind could be in the deplorable condition in which it was.

On beholding Inez and the others enter, he exhibited emotion, but when his eyes rested upon the former, a sweet smile irradiated his features, and laughing with all the joyousness of a child, he exclaimed:—

‘Beautiful!—oh, how beautiful!—what a bright and lovely vision!—Her very self!—So like her!—But ’tis only fancy—only fancy—ha! ha! ha!—How beautiful!’

‘Father! father!—dear, dear father! Do you not know me? Oh, God! what a bitter trial is this!’ frantically sobbed forth the distracted Inez, as she threw her arms around the poor old man’s neck, and pressed warm and delirious kisses upon his lips.

In a few moments Senor de Castro began to regain his scattered senses, and gazed round him like one slowly awaking from a fearful dream.

He at length fully recognized his child. Then followed a scene too affecting for pen or pencil to describe.

But one subject remained to cloud their happiness. It was the absence of Alice Hewlett, of whose abduction, by Blodget, they learned from the old woman at the ranch. Bitterly did Inez deplore the sad fate which had befallen the lovely ‘Squatter’s Daughter.’

Brown fled upon hearing of the arrest of the gang.

Monteagle was of course cleared of all complicity in the robbery of the store, by this confession, and Mr. Vandewater gave him a share in his business as some recompense for his unjust dismissal.

The little church at the Mission was soon after gaily decorated, and before its humble altar the hands of Inez and Monteagle were united. Their hearts had been so from the day our hero bore the fainting maiden in safety from the flames.

THE END.

● Transcriber’s Notes: ○ Some chapters are not numbered sequentially. They left as they were printed. ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected (capitalization, spaces inside words, incorrect hyphenation, duplicated words) were silently corrected. ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only when a predominant form was found in this book. ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).