CHAPTER XXV.
One day, shortly after Constance had started on the road to recovery,and before she had been removed from "Rosemont" to her home, Virginia,Hazel and Sam were grouped on the piazza discussing in low tones theprobable sentence of Rutley and Jack Shore. Sam held the morning paperin his hand, which he casually perused. Virginia was particularlyhappy and vivacious, and indeed, had she not reason in thereconciliation of John Thorpe and Constance; the rescue of Dorothy;the recovery by Constance of her reason, so threatening and dire inits flight, and the passing of that awful consuming fever that hadseized upon the frail mind and body of Constance--was productive ofsuch devout and fervent gladness that she felt at peace with theworld. Even that old bitterness, so virulent and overpowering towardCorway, had gone out from her heart completely, and as she pondered onhis sudden disappearance, the thought that he may have come to aviolent death caused tears to spring into her beautiful eyes. It was amute but an inexpressibly sad testimony to the final closing of love'sfirst dream.
At that moment Sam exclaimed, "Well, what do you think of this?" andthen he looked over the paper and grinned at Hazel knowingly.
The girl stood his stare for a moment, then impatiently said, "Whydon't you read it?"
And Sam read: "The item is headed, 'A Bottle Picked Up at Sea. As thebar tug Hercules was cruising beyond the bar, farther out than usual,last Tuesday, Captain Patterson espied a bottle bobbing about in thewash of a swell and picked it up. On being opened, it was found tocontain a sealed message to a young Portland woman, with instructionsfor the finder please to deliver at once.
"'The bottle had been cast overboard September 15th, from the Britishbark Lochlobin, two days out, bound for Sydney.'"
Expressions of wonder and speculation from the young ladies werescarcely ended when a messenger boy was seen approaching. At the footof the piazza steps he produced two letters and, tipping his cap tothe group above, enquired for Miss Hazel Brooke.
Yes--a message from the deep.
He delivered one of the letters which he held in his hand to Hazel,and then said: "The other letter is for Miss Virginia Thorpe," whichthe housekeeper at Mr. Thorpe's home, where he had first enquired forMiss Brooke, had asked him to deliver at Rosemont, too.
The boy touched his cap respectfully and left. Sam accompanied him ashort distance, and slipped a gold piece into his hand. The boythanked him, and took his departure whistling.
Meanwhile Hazel opened the letter, and her eyes raced over thecontents; then she fairly danced with joy.
"Oh, such good news, Virginia!" she exclaimed, without taking her eyesfrom the letter. "It's from Joe. Poor Joe! He was sandbagged orshanghaied, whatever that is, but he is well now, on a ship bound forAustralia, and will be home in about three months."
But the glad message to one fell on the unreceptive ears of the other.Virginia had also opened the letter addressed to her. She had notedthe bold letters and familiar writing, glanced at the postmark, andnoted its date; dated at Portland over two weeks past; but, undeterredsave by a slight fluttering at her heart, she read:
"Dear Virginia: For some time past; in fact, since our hasty engagement, I have been searching the depths of my heart, to see if my love for you is genuine, and I am sorry to say that I have found the love I had rashly expressed is not deeply felt, and in spite of all my determination to think only of you, my heart would stray to another.
"Dear Virginia, I implore you to consider me a trifler, quite unworthy of the exalted love that is in your noble nature to bestow; and I beg of you to release me from our engagement, which, if insisted on being maintained, must result in a life of unhappiness for us both. Let us be to each other as brother and sister, and I shall ever bless you and pray for you.
"Joseph Corway."
She did not tear the letter to shreds, nor stamp it under her feet.She stood with it in her hand, which slowly fell down by her side,while a look of sadness and of reminiscence stole into her eyes. Andshe commenced to experience, too, the greatest difficulty inrestraining a dewy profuseness that would arise and cloud her sight.She had thought that her heart was steeled against any expression oftenderness for him that might assail it, but she discovered that shewas still a young girl with a girl's emotions, impossible ofsubjection.
An overpowering desire to be alone until she could master her emotionand clear away the mist from her eyes caused her to descend the steps.The sense of motion steadied her, and it enabled her to think and tosay unconsciously, half aloud to herself, "If father had burst hiscerements and arisen from his grave to tell me this, I should haverefused to believe him," and with the thought of what Constance hadsuffered, a moan unconsciously escaped her.
Here, then, was the key to Virginia's transformation. This delayedletter--cruel, it was true--was addressed to her at the farm three daysbefore her sudden return home, and had as slowly followed her, forrural postal facilities were at that time dependent on the farmergoing to town for his mail.
Hazel heard the moan, and looked up from the note which she had readand re-read, and kissed time and again. She saw Virginia in apparentpain, and at once flew down the steps, crying, "Oh, Virginia, dear!What has caused you so much grief?" and she sought to caress her.
But Virginia, with an effort subduing her emotions, drew away,answering, "Nothing, dear, nothing; it's all past, all gone now!"
Sam came up just then. He cast a swift glance at her distressed face,and then to the letter which she held in her hand, and surmised thatit had to do with her trouble. His first thought was, "Damn thatmessenger boy!" He, however, made no attempt to break in on her mood.
Virginia returned his look almost defiantly at first, as though hisquestioning glance was rude, but the little cloud quickly vanished,when Hazel said, "Something serious, dear? Won't you let me share yourtrouble?"
"Oh, no! It's all past, all gone," she answered firmly. "I'm quitestrong now, and to prove it, we will have a little bonfire. Sam, haveyou a light?"
Quietly Sam produced a match-box from his pocket, took a match,lighted it and handed it over.
Virginia applied the fire to the letter. As it burned down to the lastbit, which she dropped from her hand, and disappeared in smoke, shelooked up and as her eyes fell on the transcendently beautiful autumnvista, and then rested on Sam's strong and at that moment deeplyapprehensive face, there gradually came into them a steadfast look ofadmiration and loyalty.
Sam caught the wondrous expression. He stepped forward, his armsopened, and she fell on his shoulder, her arms about his neck.
"Will it ever return, darling?" he said soothingly.
"Never again, Sam," and as she turned her face up to him their lipsmet in a seal of absolute trust and affection.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Philip Rutley and Jack Shore were duly arraigned for abduction andfelony, tried and convicted on both counts, and each was sentenced toa maximum penalty of twenty years in the state penitentiary at Salem.
Even then Rutley's penchant for conspiracy asserted itself. Oneafternoon, just four months after the prison doors closed on them, theinner corridor guard was killed, a second overpowered and knockedunconscious. So swiftly and silently was the work done that beforediscovery six convicts had escaped to the outer court. There, however,on a general alarm being sounded, three of them were shot down fromthe walls. The others surrendered.
One of the convicts who was shot and died almost instantly was PhilipRutley.
When last heard of, Jack Shore was still serving his time in anindustrial department, devoting his talents to the manufacture ofstoves, and reducing his sentence by good behavior.
The first act of Mr. Thorpe after his happiness had been restored wasto recognize substantially Smith's invaluable service to the family.Sufficient to say that Smith was presented with a ticket good for onefirst-class passage to the "Emerald Isle" and return, and in additionto his four months' vacation on full pay, a goodly sum in cash forincidental expenses.
Tha
t Smith appreciated Mr. Thorpe's generosity, is begging thequestion. On arrival in the old country, he found conditions hadchanged since he left there thirty years ago. The old haunts of hisboyhood days had been transformed. The old folks had long sincedeparted this life--"God rest their souls!" His friends andacquaintances had disappeared from the county or were no more--strangefaces everywhere--all had changed save the old parish church; thatalone remained undefined by the ravages of time.
"And now, my duty done, Oi'll go back to America." On taking hisfarewell, sad and impressive thoughts occupied his mind. "Shall Iniver see the ould sod again, the dear ould land that gave me birth,the grain ave its hills, and the dear little shamrock--long life toit." And as a mist gathered in his eyes, he reverently knelt, lower hebent, till his lips touched the grassy ground, which he lovinglykissed.
"Farewell, an' may it plaise God to bring yees from the gloom avetribulation into the sunshine ave happiness and prosperity. Farewell,dear ould Erin, my heart'll be wid ye always."
The End.
About the book:
Title: An Oregon Girl Subtitle: A Tale of American Life in the New West Author: Alfred Ernest Rice Illustrator: Colista M. Dowling Original Publisher: Glass & Prudhomme Co., Portland, Oregon, 1914 Original Copyright: 1914, by Alfred Ernest Rice
An Oregon Girl: A Tale of American Life in the New West Page 31