THROUGH GWEN'S WINDOW
When I told The Pilot of Lady Charlotte's purpose to visit Gwen, he was not too well pleased.
"What does she want with Gwen?" he said impatiently."She will just put notions into her head and make the child discontented.""Why should she?" said I.
"She won't mean to, but she belongs to another world, and Gwen cannot talk to her without getting glimpses of a life that will make her long for what she can never have," said The Pilot.
"But suppose it is not idle curiosity in Lady Charlotte," Isuggested.
"I don't say it is quite that," he answered, "but these people love a sensation.""I don't think you know Lady Charlotte," I replied."I hardly think from her tone the other night that she is a sensation hunter.""At any rate," he answered, decidedly, "she is not to worry poor Gwen."I was a little surprised at his attitude, and felt that he was unfair to Lady Charlotte, but I forbore to argue with him on the matter.He could not bear to think of any person or thing threatening the peace of his beloved Gwen.
The very first Saturday after my promise was given we were surprised to see Lady Charlotte ride up to the door of our shack in the early morning.
"You see, I am not going to let you off," she said, as I greeted her."And the day is so very fine for a ride."I hastened to apologize for not going to her, and then to get out of my difficulty, rather meanly turned toward The Pilot, and said:
"The Pilot doesn't approve of our visit.""And why not, may I ask?" said Lady Charlotte, lifting her eyebrows.
The Pilot's face burned, partly with wrath at me, and partly with embarrassment; for Lady Charlotte had put on her grand air.But he stood to his guns.
"I was saying, Lady Charlotte," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "that you and Gwen have little in common--and--and--" he hesitated.
"Little in common!" said Lady Charlotte quietly."She has suffered greatly."The Pilot was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice.
"Yes," he said, wondering at her tone, "she has suffered greatly.""And," continued Lady Charlotte, "she is bright as the morning, The Duke says." There was a look of pain in her face.
The Pilot's face lit up, and he came nearer and laid his hand caressingly upon her beautiful horse.
"Yes, thank God!" he said quickly, "bright as the morning.""How can that be?" she asked, looking down into his face."Perhaps she would tell me.""Lady Charlotte," said The Pilot with a sudden flush, "I must ask your pardon.I was wrong.I thought you--" he paused; "but go to Gwen, she will tell you, and you will do her good.""Thank you," said Lady Charlotte, putting out her hand, "and perhaps you will come and see me, too."The Pilot promised and stood looking after us as we rode up the trail.
"There is something more in your Pilot than at first appears," she said."The Duke was quite right.""He is a great man," I said with enthusiasm; "tender as a woman and with the heart of a hero.""You and Bill and The Duke seem to agree about him," she said, smiling.
Then I told her tales of The Pilot, and of his ways with the men, till her blue eyes grew bright and her beautiful face lost its proud look.
"It is perfectly amazing," I said, finishing my story, "how these devil-may-care rough fellows respect him, and come to him in all sorts of trouble.I can't understand it, and yet he is just a boy.""No, not amazing," said Lady Charlotte slowly."I think Iunderstand it.He has a true man's heart; and holds a great purpose in it.I've seen men like that.Not clergymen, I mean, but men with a great purpose."Then, after a moment's thought, she added: "But you ought to care for him better.He does not look strong.""Strong!" I exclaimed quickly, with a queer feeling of resentment at my heart."He can do as much riding as any of us.""Still," she replied, "there's something in his face that would make his mother anxious." In spite of my repudiation of her suggestion, I found myself for the next few minutes thinking of how he would come exhausted and faint from his long rides, and Iresolved that he must have a rest and change.
It was one of those early September days, the best of all in the western country, when the light falls less fiercely through a soft haze that seems to fill the air about you, and that grows into purple on the far hilltops.By the time we reached the canyon the sun was riding high and pouring its rays full into all the deep nooks where the shadows mostly lay.
There were no shadows to-day, except such as the trees cast upon the green moss beds and the black rocks.The tops of the tall elms were sere and rusty, but the leaves of the rugged oaks that fringed the canyon's lips shone a rich and glossy brown.All down the sides the poplars and delicate birches, pale yellow, but sometimes flushing into orange and red, stood shimmering in the golden light, while here and there the broad-spreading, feathery sumachs made great splashes of brilliant crimson upon the yellow and gold.Down in the bottom stood the cedars and the balsams, still green.We stood some moments silently gazing into this tangle of interlacing boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in yellow light, then Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and reverent as if she stood in a great cathedral.
"And this is Gwen's canyon!"
"Yes, but she never sees it now," I said, for I could never ride through without thinking of the child to whose heart this was so dear, but whose eyes never rested upon it.Lady Charlotte made no reply, and we took the trail that wound down into this maze of mingling colors and lights and shadows.Everywhere lay the fallen leaves, brown and yellow and gold;--everywhere on our trail, on the green mosses and among the dead ferns.And as we rode, leaves fluttered down from the trees above silently through the tangled boughs, and lay with the others on moss and rock and beaten trail.
