CHAPTER XIX

THREE LITTLE WOMEN’S SUCCESS

How quickly things come about in this world. Barely an hour had passed since good old Mammy watched her “baby” ride away so happily. Never were hearts lighter than those of the riders. The girl mounted upon the beautiful thoroughbred bay horse, which had grown to know and love her voice and touch as he knew and loved his master’s; his splendid head tossing up and down in his delight; his superb neck arching in pride; his delicate nostrils distended to draw in delicious whiffs of the pine-scented air; his dainty hoofs barely touching the ground! Grace, beauty, strength incarnate as the play of the great muscles beneath that satiny coat carried him forward—one of God’s most perfect creatures. The girl riding cross-saddle felt the thrill of his action to her finger-tips. Her body swayed with every motion of the beautiful horse. She seemed a very part of him; he of her. The man riding beside her upon his fine gray was fully alive to the beauty of both rider and horse, and his eyes rested upon them with intense admiration. The soft light of the woods seemed reflected in the eyes she turned toward him—its mystery in the smile which curved his lips. It was a happy world, and these two could enjoy its beauty.

The horse Hadyn rode was a high-strung, nervous creature, alert to every sound or motion about him. As they passed through the town he had shied more than once, and required firm handling; but up in this silent mountain road there was little to excite him, and Comet’s example had a quieting influence. They had nearly reached the summit of the mountain, and just ahead the road made a sharp turn. They were close upon it when a warning honk! honk! caused Haydn to tighten his hold upon his reins. Then around the turn whirled a huge touring car. It was all over in a moment. The car skidded, hurled itself against the riders, the chauffeur made a desperate attempt to control his machine, but failed, and it tore on down the mountain entirely beyond his control, leaving behind it a prone horse and a madly excited one, which, in spite of its rider’s strenuous efforts to control it, dashed on a quarter of a mile up the mountain before he could stop it, turn and gallop back to the spot where the accident occurred. Those minutes seemed like years to Hadyn. Flinging himself from the horse, though still holding the bridle rein, he cried:

“My God, my darling!” as he caught Constance in his arms. She did not appear to notice his act or his words, but stood, white and trembling, pointing to Comet.

“But you, you, my little girl! my little girl!”

“No, no! I’m not hurt a particle. Quick! tie that mad brute to a tree and _do_ something. I slid off as Comet fell. I’m not hurt; but he, _he_ is dying. Oh, Comet! Comet!” And with a heart-breaking sob she fell upon her knees beside the horse. The radiator of the car had struck his forehead and stunned him, but the heavy lantern had torn that jagged wound in the perfect foreleg just below the shoulder, and from it his life blood was gushing with every heart-throb.

“But, Constance! Constance! my little girl, you must be hurt!” cried Hadyn, bending over her.

“I’m not! I’m not, I tell you,” she cried, impatiently. “Go tie that horse and come here. We _must_ save Comet!”

With the keenest anguish he had ever known Hadyn hurried the still restless horse to a sapling, tied him securely, and then returned to Constance, who was upon her knees striving to stanch the red stream flowing from the powerful leg. Puny effort! A moment before the splendid creature lying there upon the ground had been life, strength, vigor, beauty incarnate. Now—an inanimate mass.

“My little one, oh, my little one, come away! come away! This is no place for you,” begged Hadyn, striving to draw her from the scene. She turned upon him like a fury, echoing indignantly:

“Come away! come away! What are you saying, Hadyn? With Comet dying? For he is. Quick! help me. We must stop this! I’m afraid an artery is severed. Make a tourniquet of your handkerchief or something. Oh, _do! do!_” she urged, frantically.

“Oh, this is horrible! horrible! I would rather have him die a hundred deaths than have you pass through all this!” cried Hadyn, as he tied his handkerchief about the horse’s leg and sought to twist it tight enough to stop the flow. It was useless. It needed a stouter bandage than that. The girl saw this, and the next instant had unbuckled the bridle rein, and was kneeling and binding it around the leg above that ragged wound. Then quickly slipping her riding-crop through the loop with Hadyn’s assistance, she turned it tighter and tighter, and presently had the joy of seeing that red flow lessen. “Oh, for help! Is _no_ one within a hundred miles of us?” she moaned. “Hold this, Hadyn, and let me ride for someone,” she cried.

“Constance! Never! Do you realize the state you are in?”—for the girl had given no thought to self in her excitement. One glance at her habit was enough.

“And do you think I would let you mount that mad brute? Had he not plunged aside, he, instead of Comet, would be lying before us this minute.

“Then you must go. Go at once, Hadyn. Ride to Pringle’s for the ambulance and help.”

“And leave you here alone on this mountain road with that horse, which may revive from this blow and struggle? Constance, are you mad?”

“No, I was never saner in all my life; but, unless you go, _I_ shall. He won’t struggle; he knows my voice, and he is already too weak from this—_this_ awful thing to try to struggle,” and she pointed shudderingly at the discolored earth. “Hadyn, dear, dear Hadyn, please, please go,” she implored, turning up to him a pair of eyes swimming in tears. “I shall know what to do. Oh, please trust me! Please, do!”

For one moment the man looked at the woman dearer to him than all the world beside, then stooping over her he rested his lips first upon one eyelid then the other, and said very, very gently:

“God bless and guard you, my darling. I shall go as quickly as that beast can take me, and I shall never forget _this_. Comet, Comet, old man, we’ve fought some tough fights; but this is the toughest of all,” and, bending over the horse, he ran his hand along the silky neck.

The faintest flutter of the nostrils acknowledged the caress, and the next second Hadyn had flung himself upon Lightfoot, and was riding down that mountain road at a pace which threatened destruction. Constance had never for a second lessened her firm hold upon the riding-crop, but her eyes followed the rider, and her lips murmured:

“A moment ago I was a girl and did not realize. Now I know. Oh, Hadyn, Hadyn, come safely back to us!” and still holding that life-saving little riding-crop she laid her head down upon the beautiful neck and sobbed as though her heart would break.

Animals which are constantly with human beings learn to understand the tones which varying emotions govern, just as a human being learns to understand the wonderful language of the so-called dumb creatures. Comet had been Hadyn’s closest companion for years, and during the past six months had been petted and cared for by all in Mrs. Carruth’s home. But it was Constance whom he had grown to love best; Constance who rode him when Hadyn was at his office; and many a delightful hour’s exercise had she taken on the splendid horse.

Very gradually Comet came back to the world of real things around him. The great eyes opened and the delicate nostrils quivered. There was a slight effort to rise, but close to his ear murmured the voice he had learned to love and obey as an army horse obeys the voice of his master.

“Steady, Comet! Dear, dear Comet, keep quiet. There, old fellow! There! Steady! steady!”

The ears were turned to catch each tone; the eyes shone with a human intelligence; the nostrils breathed audibly, but the horse lay as quiet as though life had departed, and Constance did not move.

How long the minutes seemed! How far away from human aid that mountain road! How solemn, how silent the great woodland, stretching, stretching away in a vista of glorious colors! Overhead the soft October winds whispered and sighed in the tree-tops; and with each sigh a few brilliant leaves fluttered to the ground—dear Nature’s coverlid for some baby growth to be nestled for its long winter’s sleep. Far away the crows cawed and called to one another. Overhead, ominous shadow! a hawk circled. And then, as though to dispel a sign so baleful, clear, sweet, exquisite as a voice from Paradise, came the liquid notes of a hermit thrush—a late lingerer whom his mates had left behind when they took flight to sunnier climes against the coming of bitter days.

The notes brought comfort to the girl. She had always loved them. No other bird-call meant so much to her as this, for it was associated with some of the sweetest and, yes, the saddest experiences of her life, and now it held a meaning it had never before held. All her life these notes would stand above all others. The experience was, indeed, bittersweet. She did not know how long she had lain there, for time seemed at a standstill, when along the ground she heard the rapid thud, thud of a horse’s flying feet, and raising her head she saw Hadyn returning, Lightfoot in a lather and his flanks heaving. Hadyn flung himself from the horse, which was now too spent to do anything but stand and pant, and hurried to Constance’s side. Dropping upon his knees beside her, he drew her into his arms as she rose to her knees from her prone position, though she never for an instant relaxed her hold upon the crop. Comet nickered faintly, but for the first time in his life failed to hear his master’s response to that greeting.

Like a weary little child Constance let her head fall, upon the shoulder so near it, and whispered:

“Oh, Hadyn, the minutes have seemed so long to us!”

“My little girl! my little girl! Dear, dear heart!—so courageous, so brave, so strong! So perfect a woman in your tenderness combined with your strength. This hour has shown me what you are to me; what life would be without you. I thought I knew before, but I did not. And you, dear heart?”

There was no answer, but the softly perfumed hair nestled still closer against him. His arm tightened about her, and he said gently:

“I’ve waited four years for this moment, dear, but I never dreamed of such a setting for it. No words are necessary to tell me what I’ve won by waiting; but—the Ambulance is not far behind, and will be here in a few moments. My sign and seal, dear. May I claim it now? Then let me hold the crop and you go ever yonder.”

Without a word the pure, beautiful face was raised to his, and in that moment Hadyn Stuyvesant felt that Paradise could not be far removed from such lips, for none could be purer or holier, and into his life at that instant came all that is best in manhood.

“Now go, my darling.” Constance shook her head and smiled a gentle refusal.

“Please.”

“No, dear; not until the Veterinary takes it from my hands. Yours are trembling, and it might loosen. There comes the Ambulance now. It will only be a moment longer.”

When the panting horses which drew the Ambulance came to a standstill the Veterinary sprang from it and hurried to the group.

“By George, Miss Carruth, have _you_ done this?” he exclaimed. “Well, you can thank this young lady, Stuyvesant, for saving a valuable horse’s life. Now, turn your patient over to me, Miss Carruth, and we will get him into the Ambulance and down the hill as fast as we can. There, that’s right. Now, Stuyvesant, get her away from this place. A carriage is right behind us, and you must take her home. What an experience for a girl! Jo, you take charge of Lightfoot yonder.”

Hadyn bent over to stroke his pet, and Constance knelt to press her lips to the great neck, then with Hadyn’s aid struggled to her feet. She was cramped and stiff, but Hadyn’s arm supported her, and more than one pair of eyes followed the girl admiringly as he led her to the carriage which just then drew up.

“Don’t give a thought to this, Stuyvesant. We will do everything possible, and Miss Carruth needs you more than Comet does now,” the Veterinary called after them.

“I’ll have her safely home in twenty minutes!” Hadyn called back.

Neither ever forgot that drive down the mountain. Until the strain was removed the girl did not realize how great it had been during the foregoing hour. Constance was thankful for the sheltering cover of that depot carriage and the strong arm encircling her. Her own strength seemed suddenly to have left her. Only Mrs. Carruth and Mammy were at home when they reached there. Hadyn half carried Constance to them.

“Bress Gawd! what done happen?” cried Mammy, almost taking the worn-out girl in her arms. “Has you done fell off Comet?”

“Hadyn, what is it?” cried Mrs. Carruth.

“She is not harmed, but is nervously exhausted. Will you believe me, and let Mammy put her to bed for a few hours? Go, rest, my darling,” he said, taking Constance’s face in his hands and pressing his lips to her’s.

“Glory be ter Gawd! Come wid me, baby. D’ere’s nothin’ wrong wid you, I knows. Ef you’s done had a fright, _he_ gwine be de bes’ medicine bimeby. Go ’long wid yo’ boy, Miss Jinny—yo’s got one now—an’ leave dis hyar chile ter me.”

“Constance, darling, tell me first that you are not injured,” said Mrs. Carruth, tenderly taking the girl in her arms.

Constance nestled against her and whispered softly:

“Not hurt a particle, Mother, only a little shaky, and, oh, _so_ happy! Let Mammy help me while Hadyn tells you,” and smiling through her tears the girl was led upstairs by Mammy’s ever ready, loving arms.

Mrs. Carruth’s eyes followed her a moment, then turned to encounter Hadyn’s looking at her with a tenderness she never forgot as he extended his arms and said:

“My little mother! My little mother! Will you let these serve and hold you henceforth? May I be, as dear old Mammy says, ‘your boy?’ You do not know how I have longed to be that in reality all these years that I have been waiting. Come!”

“In the beautiful days of long ago,” When all this world was so new and fair, An Angel came from the world above To bestow the gift of all gifts most rare. And what was this blessing?—this priceless boon, To bring to mortals the greatest good? Ah! need I whisper that name so dear— God’s precious gift of Motherhood?

Perhaps but once in her life can a woman know a more precious moment than that in which she gives her daughter into the love and keeping of the man she has learned to love, and this mother realizes that he is now her son. The sense of rest, peace, protection that came to Mrs. Carruth when this strong man held her in his arms, and called her by that tenderest of all names, “Mother,” passes all power to describe. From that instant he _was_ “her boy,” for the man ever remains “the boy” in the mother’s love, and Hadyn had rich store of Mrs. Carruth’s.

Leading her to a settee, with arm still circling her, he told her the whole story. When it was ended he asked gently:

“And can the heart find room for another son, little Mother?”

Taking the fine, strong face in her hands, she kissed him very tenderly, saying:

“I think you have always been that to me, dear. Yes, from the first hour I knew you. I am very, very happy in my newest son, and can trust my little girl to his care with all faith and confidence.”

“God bless you!” whispered Hadyn.

“Who is here?” cried Jean at the door of the library, and running in came to a sudden standstill. Neither her mother nor Hadyn spoke, and for a moment Jean stood motionless in the middle of the room, her eyes turned first upon one face then upon the other, her expressive face changing as her emotions changed. Then impulsively as she did everything, she ran toward them and, dropping upon her knees beside Hadyn, clasped her arms around his neck, and, nestling her cheek against his, cried:

“Now I _know_ you are all mine, and everyone may know how hard I love you, for any girl may love a brother all she wants to.”

That was a wonderfully sweet moment for Hadyn.

Does much more remain to be told?

Yes, but that is another story.

THE END.