A Waif of the Mountains

“What does all this mean, Brush?”

“It means that you and Ruggles and I have been the three infernalist fools that ever pretended to have sense.”

“How?”

“How? In every way conceivable. Wade and I, as we told you, saw that those two were in love with each other; instead of persuading you to consent, we have helped you to prevent it. I must say, captain, that though Wade and I played the idiot, I think the championship belongs to you.”

“I begin to suspect it.”

“There’s no doubt of it.”

“But, you see, parson, I had never thought of anything like this.”

“Which goes to prove the truth of what I have just said. If you hadn’t been blind you would have seen it.”

“I got the belief into my head that his intentions were not honorable toward Nellie.”

“You never made a greater mistake; Lieutenant Russell is the soul of honor; heaven intended him for the husband of Nellie, and we were flying in the face of Providence when we tried to prevent it.”

“I suppose it is all right; but how is it possible for a man to make such a consummate ass of himself?”

“You have just given a demonstration of how it is done, Wade and I adding material help in the demonstration.”

The captain looked to the ground in deep thought. When he raised his eyes there was an odd twinkle in them.

“I say, parson, wasn’t that a rather cheeky performance of yours, when you made them man and wife?”

“The circumstances warranted it. There’s no saying what might have happened, if it had been deferred for only a few minutes.”

“True,” replied the veteran thoughtfully; “it begins to look as if the hand of Providence was in it.”

“It is in everything that occurs in this life. It was in your coming to New Constantinople; in the blessed influence of your child upon that barbarous community; in the impulse that led you to bring Lieutenant Russell to us, and now comes the crowning Providence of all in their marriage.”

“Parson, you ain’t such a poor preacher after all.”

“Perhaps I can preach a little, but my practice has been away off, though I hope to get back one of these days to where I was, but–”

He suddenly turned and beckoned to his friends to join them. They came smilingly forward, for they suspected what it meant.

Captain Dawson rose to his feet, and, without speaking extended his single arm toward his child. With a glad cry she flew into his embrace and pillowed her head on his breast. No one spoke, but there was not a dry eye among the spectators, while the silent embrace lasted.

Finally the daughter was released and then the captain reached his hand toward his son-in-law, who eagerly stepped forward and grasped it.

“Yes, lieutenant, we have drunk from the same canteen,” he said, “and now let’s all go home.”

And it was accordingly so done.

THE END