One day more of quiet rest, then would begin a life new and strange for them all. They had left their old selves forever behind; their past was a blank; new faces and new friends awaited them here in their future home, which had never been even claimed as the property of any man since the dawn of creation.
Yes, fate is both unkind and compassionate in withholding a knowledge of the blessings and trials that await them here; so they slumber on, while unseen destiny begins to weave her web, checkered and mysterious as the veil of moonlight that wavers through the willows.
Chapter III.
COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY—CONTINUED.
The morning of that Sabbath broke calm and serene. A warm haze brooded over the valley or danced in lines of quivering heat across the green prairies of the upland, and the dew had long since ceased to glitter on the rank blue-stem grass when our friends awoke.
The breakfast which followed almost caused them to forget the fact that they were out upon the borders of the "Great American Desert," and they might have fancied that they were once more but picnicking under the shade of their native groves; for it was a meal that had exhausted the culinary art of both matrons. Wild mushrooms, stewed in sweet cream, deliciously fragrant and hinting of the wild-wood near by, delicate brook-trout from the stream, mingled their aroma with the elder-bloom fritters which Maud was preparing; and on the snowy damask, spread on the grass, Mrs. Moreland's golden honey-comb vied with the Warlow jelly and crimson marmalade, while the coffee would make one dream of Araby the blest.
An hour after the morning meal we find our friends seated under the shade of the great elm among the ruins, the sunlight struggling faintly through the verdant canopy and weaving a golden veil over the ashen buffalo-grass, starred by daisies and violets. The spring welled out with a sleepy murmur, and overhead an oriole, near its swinging nest, caroled forth a stream of bubbling melody.
"A month passed," continued the colonel, "and we still lingered in the stately mansion, daily and hourly meeting the young heiress, who was always accompanied by her matronly kinswoman. But one morning, as Bruce was loitering in the court, he glanced up and saw the smiling face of Ivarene, framed by the passion-flowers, fuchsias, and jasmine which festooned the walls within the court and wreathed the lattice above her balcony.
"With an impulse which he could not resist our young hero swung himself up by the vines, and stood, with his sunny hair and smiling blue eyes, within the balcony. He wore the uniform of a captain of cavalry—soft gray, with cords and lace of frosted gilt over the breast—top-boots, embossed with gold, and a hat half concealed by the drooping plumes.