“You must always do as your mother wish,” she said softly. And at this continued evidence of her sweetness, the mother’s last regret vanished.
Going to the door she called the others. “Come in, girls, congratulations are in order. I wish to announce the engagement of my son, Blythe Van Dorn, to Miss Lolita Garcia.”
She could not have chosen a moment more fortunate if she had wished the matter quickly to be noised abroad, for Hannah Maria had seen Laura riding by, had stopped and had learned of the disaster. So, gathering together her most notable remedies, she started forth at once, appearing in her dun-colored costume just in time to hear the announcement.
“Well, now,” she exclaimed, “ain’t I lucky? I started out to nurse the sick and I git in jest in time for a love story. Ain’t it jest my good luck? My, my! I certainly am glad I come.” She beamed happily on Blythe, offered him her snuffy fingers, and kissed Lolita with expansive affection. “It’s wonderful,” she said, “how love gits its way. I reckon that’s for why the Marster made rattlers,” for Mrs. Van Dorn had not hesitated to confess that she had attempted the rôle of cruel parent and that she had failed in the face of Lolita’s lovely behavior.
“I’ll jest hev to hurry back an’ tell Bud,” Hannah Maria went on. “Come over soon, gals, an’ you bring Loliter, Blythe. You hear me, gals, your time’s a-comin’. Jest look how love is a workin’ out. Thar’s John and Laury, and Lou and Iry, and now these two. Jest keep on a-lookin’ fur your Mr. Right, Allie; he’s comin’ along. An’ you, too, Tina, don’t give up a-hopin’. Folks has come back after twenty year.” And she rode away on her old white mule, enveloped in an atmosphere of romance.
CHAPTER XIX
THE RETURN OF SIR ARTEGALL
SPRING had expanded into summer, the magnolias had given place to gaudier blooms, and still came no word from Alison’s knight. She had kept the secret of his quest well, but because of his long absence and the continued silence Christine began to fear that he, like many another, had been ready to love and ride away, and she noted the sober moods of her sister with the sympathy born of her own experience. Christine was listless, this hot summer weather, her usual alertness of manner had left her, and there were days when she rested a great deal, when a sharp headache would send her to a darkened room’s seclusion and quiet.
It was one of these times when Alison left her sister to procure possible sleep, and stole softly down-stairs. The day’s greatest heat was over, for the sun had set. Alison walked slowly down the path to the gate and stood there looking westward. Many, many times had she turned her eyes in that direction to see but the waving grass of the prairie against a line of cloudless sky. This evening the west was gorgeous with piled up masses of purple and red. Along the horizon a flaming yellow burned. “It is like a fire,” thought Alison, “a fiery furnace.”
Presently against the yellow streak appeared two moving specks. Alison watched them idly; two birds, perhaps. But as they grew larger and larger she perceived that they were men riding leisurely towards her. She watched to see if they would turn off where the road diverged and went on past the wood towards Louisa’s house, but they kept on, coming nearer, nearer, till what at first was but idle curiosity on the part of the girl became intense interest. Surely there was something familiar in the square shoulders, the set of the head, the easy carriage of the man upon the right. Her heart beat tumultuously, her eager eyes never took themselves from those advancing figures. Now they had passed the woods and were turning up by the chaparral at the angle where Pedro’s cabin stood. They halted here a moment, then came steadily on. Alison clutched the fence hard; there was a buzzing in her ears; her pulses were flying. Nearer and nearer they came till she saw that they were indeed no chance travelers, but Neal Jordan, and could it be Stephen? That slight, gaunt man swaying in his saddle?
The world was now bathed in a golden glory; purple and red had changed to rose and gray overhead; the yellow flame had crept up like a mounting fire till it overspread all the west, illumining tree and shrub and prairie grass. Its gleams struck the silver mountings on the horsemen’s saddles, ran along the barrels of their rifles laid across their knees, and stole under the shadows of their sombreros to light up their faces.