The Award of Justice Part 56

"Edna, my child! my own Edna!" she cried, rising with outstretched arms, and clasping Lyle to her breast; then turning toward her husband, she asked:

"What does this mean, Walter? Can this be Edna's child?"

"Yes, my love," he replied, "this is the little Marjorie we have mourned as dead for so many years."

For a while they sat clasped in each other's arms, their tears commingling, while Mr. Cameron briefly explained to his wife the main facts in Lyle's strange history.

"She shall be our own daughter, shall she not, Walter? She shall be to us just what Edna was?"

"Certainly," was the response, "she is our own daughter, Marjorie Lyle Cameron."

They returned to Guy's room, Mrs. Cameron resuming her old place, with Guy's head upon her breast, his hand in hers, only that now Lyle knelt beside her. At their side, and very near his son, was Mr. Cameron, while just back of them were Everard, Leslie and Morton Rutherford.

Ned Rutherford and Van Dorn lingered in the door-way watching, while at the foot of the bed stood Mike, the tears coursing down his rugged face. On the other side of the bed stood the physicians and nurse, their keen eyes watching the subtle changes pa.s.sing over the face, now white as marble, and almost as motionless.

Fainter and shorter grew the gasping breaths, more and more feeble the pulse, until at last it was evident to every one within that little room, that life had very nearly ebbed away.

But there was one who did not, for one instant, lose faith or hope.

The sublime faith which had upheld her through all those years of a sorrow greater than death, did not desert her now. Lyle seemed to share her faith, and they alone remained calm and tearless, the saint-like face of the mother shining with love and trust.

Suddenly, upon that death-like stillness, her voice rang out, with startling clearness:

"Guy! oh, Guy, my darling!"

And to that soul, slipping through the fast-darkening shadows, almost within the grasp of the great enemy, there seemed to have come some echo of those tones, with their piercing sweetness, recalling him to life; for, with a long, quivering breath, Guy slowly opened his eyes, gazing, for an instant, with a dreamy smile, upon the faces surrounding him. His eyes closed with a gentle sigh, but while those about him anxiously awaited the next breath, they again opened, full of the light of recognition, while a rapturous smile grew and deepened upon his face, irradiating his features with joy, his lips moving in a whisper so faint that only the mother's ear could catch the words:

"I thought--it was--all--a dream,--but--it--is true," then, exhausted, he sank into a deep sleep like a child's, his breathing growing more and more regular and natural, moment by moment.

The physicians withdrew from the bedside, their vigil was over; "He will live," they said briefly, while in response, there rose from all parts of the room, deep sobs of joy.

CHAPTER XLIX.

For the first week or two, Guy Cameron's recovery was slow, but at the expiration of that time his vigorous const.i.tution rea.s.serted itself, and he gained rapidly.

Meanwhile, at Silver City, affairs were progressing under the efficient management of Mr. Whitney, the clear-headed attorney from New York.

When orders for arrest were first issued, it was soon discovered that the office of the North Western Mining, Land & Investment Company was practically deserted. None of their books or papers were to be found, their clerks had been dismissed, and no trace existed of the officers of the company. No information regarding their whereabouts could be obtained from any of the officers of the several high-t.i.tled companies occupying the same room, as they were supremely and serenely unconscious that anything out of the usual order had occurred, and full of regrets that they were unable to furnish the desired information.

Blaisdell was discovered the following day, in company with his eldest son, in an old abandoned mine about two miles from town, which he claimed they were working, his limited means not allowing him to wander far from the scene of his crimes. He was brought back to town and held pending the discovery of Wilson and Rivers, for whom detectives were searching in every direction. The former was never found, but at the end of about two weeks, the latter was run to earth in an eastern city, where he was masquerading in snow-white wig and beard and colored eye-gla.s.ses, as a retired and invalid clergyman, living in great seclusion.

Blaisdell and Rivers were tried on the charge of murder, the most important witnesses for the prosecution being Everard Houston and Morton Rutherford; the latter testifying as to the nature of the final and fatal dispatch sent on that eventful day, in which he was corroborated by the telegraph operator of the Silver City office, who had been found and secured as a witness, and who verified Rutherford's statements regarding the message, but at the same time cleared Mr.

Blaisdell from all connection therewith; the message having been sent by Rivers in Blaisdell's absence, whether with his knowledge and consent, they were unable to ascertain. The charge against Blaisdell was therefore dismissed through lack of evidence, while in Rivers'

case, a verdict was returned for manslaughter, and he was given the extreme limit of the law, imprisonment for ten years.

Blaisdell was then speedily arraigned for a new trial on the charge of embezzlement, the date on which his case was set for hearing being the same as that upon which his partner in crime was to be transferred to the state penitentiary.

On that morning, however, the guard on going to the cell occupied by Rivers, found him just expiring, having succeeded in smuggling into his cell a quant.i.ty of morphine, how or when, no one could ascertain.

He left a letter in which he stated that no state penitentiary had ever held him, or ever would, but that "as the game was up" he would give them a few particulars regarding his past life. He gave his true name, the name of a man who, twenty-five years before, had been wanted in the state of New York for a heavy bank robbery and murder. For years, under an alias, he had belonged to a gang of counterfeiters in Missouri, but upon the discovery and arrest of the leaders of the band, he had a.s.sumed his present alias and had come west.

As Blaisdell took his place that morning in the prisoner's box, he was a pitiable object. Haunted almost to madness by the awful fate of his a.s.sociate, confronted by an overwhelming array of evidence, furnished by Houston, Van Dorn and Lindlay, including also a deposition of Guy Cameron's, taken in his sick-room, his own abject and hopeless appearance bore the most damaging testimony against him. His case was quickly decided, his sentence being for seven years.

After the trial, Morton Rutherford and Van Dorn returned at once to the camp, and a day or two later, when business affairs had at last been satisfactorily adjusted, Mr. Cameron and Houston returned, bringing with them Mr. Whitney and Lindlay, for a visit of a week among the mountains, before the entire party should return east.

It was now early in the fall. Already the nights were frosty, but the days were royal as only early autumnal days among the mountains can be. Every breath was exhilarating, each inhalation seeming laden with some subtle elixir of life.

Guy Cameron was now convalescent, able to sit with his friends in the low, rustic porch, or even to join them in short strolls among the rocks by the lake.

One afternoon they all sat in and about the porch, in the soft, hazy sunlight, the vines and shrubbery about them brilliant in their autumnal tints of crimson and orange and gold. The group was complete, with the exception of Mr. Cameron and Mr. Whitney, who still lingered within doors, engaged in drawing up some papers of which no one seemed to understand the import, excepting Houston, who had just left the gentlemen to join the group outside.

It was a strikingly beautiful picture; Mrs. Cameron seated in the center, with her sweet face and snow-white hair, and on either side a lovely daughter. Near Lyle were seated Guy Cameron and Morton Rutherford,--between whom there already existed a deep affinity,---with their faces of remarkable strength and beauty.

On the gra.s.s, just outside the porch, in various easy att.i.tudes, were Ned Rutherford, Van Dorn and Lindlay, and it was noticeable that under the influence of late events, even Ned's boyish face was gradually a.s.suming a far more mature and thoughtful expression.

As Houston seated himself beside Leslie, both she and Lyle observed that his face was lighted with a smile of deep satisfaction, but he remained silent, and the conversation continued as before, the members of the little group engaged in antic.i.p.ations of their return to their respective homes, and in comments upon this particular portion of the west with which they had become familiar.

"Which will you love best, Jack, my dear," Lyle asked of Guy in low tones, using the old form of address still very dear to her, "the eastern home, or the mountains?"

"My old home was never so dear to me as now," he replied, "but I am deeply attached to the mountains; for years they were my only friends, and I shall wish to look upon them occasionally in the future."

"Well," Ned Rutherford was saying, "I wouldn't have thought it, but I've got so attached to this place out here, I'd like an excuse of some sort,--some kind of business, you know,--that would bring me here part of the time; what do you think, Mort?"

"I think our a.s.sociations here have had a great deal to do with the attractions of the place, but as a quiet retreat in which to spend a few weeks of each summer, I can not imagine a more delightful place."

"Everard, of what are you thinking so deeply?" demanded Lyle, watching his thoughtful face, "you have not spoken a word since you came out."

"I am thinking of the evening when first we had Mr. Lindlay and Mr.

Van Dorn as guests in this house; thinking of the contrast between then and now; that was ushering in the close of the old regime, and this is the eve of the new."

"When will the mines be reopened?" inquired Van Dorn.

"Just as soon as possible after the rebuilding of the plant, next spring."

"All these mines will be owned and controlled by the New York company, will they not?"

"Yes, and they will probably purchase other good properties."

"'Pon my soul, but that will make a fine plant, out 'ere!" exclaimed Lindlay.

"I should say so," responded Van Dorn.

Just at that instant, Mr. Cameron and Mr. Whitney appeared, the latter carrying a large roll of legal cap, covered with his well-known hieroglyphics.

"My dear," said Mr. Cameron, seating himself beside his wife and a little in the rear of the remainder of the group, "Mr. Whitney and myself have been engaged in drawing up the articles of incorporation of the new mining company to be organized out here very shortly, and I thought perhaps you and the young people would be interested in them. I want to say that they are drawn up subject to the approval of all parties interested, and after you have heard them read, we want you to express your opinions, jointly and severally. Mr. Whitney, as I believe you are the only one who would be able to read those cabalistic signs, we will now listen to you."

Amid a general laugh at Mr. Whitney's expense, he began the reading of the articles of incorporation. The first article, setting forth the object of the corporation, was read, and by the time Mr. Whitney had reached the second, the members of the party were all attention.

"Article II. This corporation shall be known as The Rocky Mountain Mining Company."