The Award of Justice Part 46

In vain his wife urged to have the child returned to her rightful home; he threatened her life if she ever breathed the secret to any living soul. A sense of guilt made her unhappy for a time, but as years pa.s.sed she grew more indifferent to it, and as she saw, more and more, how utterly unlike any of her own family Lyle was growing, she no longer cared for her as she had done, though she tried to treat her kindly. Jim's hatred of Lyle seemed to increase with every year, until his wife sometimes feared that he would resort to personal violence.

As she found her own health and strength failing she began to reflect upon the terrible position in which Lyle would find herself in case of her own death, left alone with Maverick and his two sons, and to save her from such a fate, she had resolved to write this letter, acquainting Lyle with her own history so far as she was able to give it.

At the close she begged Lyle not to think too harshly of her or consider that she was altogether to blame in this matter, and expressed the wish that she might some day find her own friends from whom she had been taken.

It would be impossible to describe Lyle's emotions as she finished the perusal of this strange letter; joy that she had finally found the evidence she sought, and an intense longing to see those from whom she had been so cruelly separated all these years, mingled with a fearful apprehension lest this knowledge might have come too late, when those whose affection she would claim, might have already pa.s.sed beyond the limits of finite, human love, into the love infinite and eternal. And deep in her heart burned indignation, fierce and strong, against the one who had wrought all this wretchedness,--carrying additional sorrow to a home already bereaved, robbing her of the love that was rightfully hers and of the dower of a happy childhood which could never be restored,--all to gratify his cowardly revenge!

In the midst of these reflections, Lyle suddenly recalled the promise she had given Jack that he should be the first to learn of her success. It was now time for him to be at the cabin and she would have an opportunity to see him before the return of the others to the house. Accordingly, she restored the empty box to its hiding place, and having concealed the most of its contents in her own room, started forth on her joyful errand, taking with her the tiny locket and the letter.

As she approached the cabin she saw Jack sitting with Rex in the door-way and knew that he was alone. Jack, to whom her face was an open book, read the tidings which she had brought before they had exchanged a word. He rose to meet her, and looking into her radiant face, he said in gentle tones and with a grave smile:

"You have good news! Have you found what you hoped to find?"

"I have," she replied, "and you who have shared all my troubles must be the first sharer of my joy."

Together they entered the cabin, and seated in the little, familiar room, Lyle told the story of her discovery, and opening the locket, placed it in Jack's hands.

For a moment he gazed silently at the little trinket, then he said in low tones, as if half to himself, "It is she, and you are her child, as I have always believed," then added, "I rejoice with you, Lyle, I am glad for your sake."

But even as he spoke, Lyle, notwithstanding the exuberance of her own joy, could not fail to observe in his face indications of poignant pain, as he looked at the lovely pictured face, and as she repeated the name inscribed opposite.

"Jack!" she suddenly exclaimed, "have I made you suffer by my thoughtlessness? Forgive me!"

"No, my dear," he answered tenderly, "you have caused me no pain; if I suffer, it is on account of bitter memories of which you as yet know nothing, and I pray you may never know. What letter have you there?"

Lyle read the letter, Jack silently pacing up and down the room, listening, with a look of intense indignation deepening on his face, until she had finished.

"It is as I have suspected all these years," he said, "the dastardly villain! the scoundrel! Thank G.o.d, it is not yet too late, there are those who can and will right the wrong, so far as it is possible to right it."

At Lyle's request, they compared the picture with the photograph in Jack's possession; they were one and the same, except that the latter had been taken a few years earlier.

"Jack," said Lyle earnestly, "can you tell me anything about my relatives? Are my grandparents living? and had my parents brothers or sisters?"

"I have learned quite recently that your grandparents are still living," Jack answered slowly, after a pause, "as to the others I cannot say; even of your own mother I can trust myself to say but very little, it is too painful!"

"What would you advise me to do now?" Lyle asked wistfully, but with slight hesitation. "What would be the best course for me to take?"

With an expression unlike anything she had ever seen on his face, and a depth of pathos in his voice she had never heard, he replied very tenderly:

"I can no longer advise you, my dear Lyle; take these proofs which you have found to Everard Houston; he can advise you now far better than I; show them to him, my dear, and you will have no further need of counsel or help from me, much as I wish it were in my power to give both."

"To Mr. Houston?" Lyle had risen in her surprise, and stood regarding Jack with tearful, perplexed astonishment; there was a hidden significance in his words which as yet she could not fathom. "I do not understand you, Jack; why do you speak as though you could no more be to me the friend and counselor that you have been?"

He smiled one of his rare, sweet smiles. "Do as I have suggested, dear,--then you will understand; and I shall want to see you for a few moments again to-night, after you have seen him."

Somewhat rea.s.sured by his smile, and yet perplexed by his manner, Lyle left the cabin and slowly returned to the house, everything about her seeming unreal, as though she were walking in a dream.

Miss Gladden was chatting with Morton and Ned Rutherford, and in reply to Lyle's question whether Mr. Houston had returned, stated that he was in his room, having just come up from the mines.

"Thank you, I will see him just a moment," Lyle responded, pa.s.sing into the house.

"You have not heard any bad news, have you?" asked Miss Gladden apprehensively, noting the peculiar expression on Lyle's face.

"No," the latter answered with a smile, "it is about nothing regarding himself that I wish to see him, only something concerning myself."

The door stood open into Houston's room, and Lyle could see him standing by the table, arranging some papers which he proceeded to sort and tie up in separate parcels.

In response to her light knock he glanced quickly around, and observing her unusual expression, advanced to meet her, thinking, as did Miss Gladden, that possibly she had heard something appertaining to the present situation of affairs at the camp.

"Good evening, Lyle, come in; you look as though you were the bearer of important news of some kind."

"I have news," she replied, "though of importance only to myself; I need a little counsel, and was told to come to you."

"You know, Lyle, I will only be too glad to give you any advice, or render any a.s.sistance within my power."

"Thank you," she answered, at the same time producing the little box and the letter. "Leslie has probably told you of the manner in which I learned that the proofs as to my true parentage and my own ident.i.ty existed within this house, and of my search for them since that time."

Houston bowed in a.s.sent.

"To-day," she continued, "my search proved successful, in so far as that I have discovered my own name, and also the proofs that I was stolen by that villain, Maverick, in a spirit of retaliation and revenge; but I have as yet no knowledge as to who or where my friends may be. Naturally, I took these proofs to Jack, and asked his advice as to the best course to pursue, and he has sent me to you."

"I am more than glad to hear this, my dear Lyle," responded Houston cordially; "I have always felt a great interest in you, and it will give me much pleasure if I can a.s.sist you in finding your friends, and I shall appreciate it highly if Jack has intrusted me with this responsibility."

Taking the locket from the box, Lyle handed it, unopen, to Houston, saying as she did so, "This is the only clue I have by which to find my friends; it contains my mother's picture, and my own name,--Marjorie Lyle Washburn."

"Washburn!" exclaimed Houston in surprise, pausing as he was about to open the locket. "Washburn! Marjorie Washburn! That sounds familiar, both those names occur in my uncle's family, his wife and his daughter,--ah, I recall it now, that was the name of my cousin's little daughter. Strange!--what! what is this?" He had opened the locket and was gazing in astonishment at the beautiful face.

"This,--this is her picture, the picture of my cousin, Edna Cameron Washburn! What is the meaning of this?" And, unable to say anything further, he looked to Lyle for an explanation.

She, too, was nearly speechless with astonishment. "What did you say was her name?" she stammered.

Houston repeated the name, while a strange light began to dawn in his face.

"She was my mother," Lyle said simply. She could say nothing more, the walls of the little room seemed to be whirling rapidly about her, and she could see nothing distinctly.

Faintly, as though sounding far in the distance, she heard Houston's voice as he exclaimed:

"Can it be possible? and yet, you resemble her! Why have I never thought of it before? She had a little daughter Marjorie, whom we always supposed was killed in the wreck in which her own life was lost."

"And this," said Lyle, holding out the letter, but speaking with great effort, for the room was growing very dark, and a strange numbness seemed stealing over heart and brain, "this tells that I was stolen from the side of my dead mother who was killed in a wreck--" She could get no farther, and she knew nothing of his reply. A thick darkness seemed to envelop her, fast shutting out all sense even of life itself. There was a sound for an instant like the deafening roar of waters surging about her, and then she seemed sinking down, down into infinite depths, until she lost all consciousness. For the first time in her life she had fainted.

Houston caught her as she was falling, and a moment later the little group outside were startled by his sudden appearance.

"Leslie," he said, in quick, low tones, "you and Morton come to my room. Lyle has fainted."

"What is the trouble, Everard?" asked Ned, springing to his feet.

"Anything serious?"

"I think not," was Houston's reply. "Her fainting was the result of over-excitement. Come into my room, Ned, when she has revived, I think I have made a discovery in which we will all be interested."