DAWN OF THE MORNING

CHAPTER XXVIII

Quickly as Dan followed, Rags was before him, with his sharp, peculiar bark, and then a sudden low whine of fear or trouble. The boy's heart stood still, and he hurried the faster. Rags came whining to his feet as he reached the arbor. And then Dan saw her.

She lay sleeping on the pile of comfortables, in her little white frock, with the spray of roses in her hand and a slight tinge of color in her cheek, like the flush on a half-open rosebud. The comb had fallen from her hair, and the beautiful curls lay tumbled out upon the pillow in lovely confusion.

The boy gazed with awe, and then turned his head reverently away. But Rags went whining about her feet again.

Dan signed to the dog to be still, and, bending over with sudden anxiety, watched to see if she were breathing naturally.

Gently as a child she slept, and the roses trembled with her soft breathing. His heart leaped with joy.

"Rags, stay here and guard her!" he commanded. "Sit right there!" He pointed to a spot in the garden walk. "Now be still."

Rags whined softly. He was trembling with excitement.

"Be still!"

The little dog thumped his tail in acquiescence, but looked wistfully after his master as he turned away, and then at the sleeping goddess.

Dan hastened back to the house.

The horses were cropping their breakfast from the lawn at the edge of the gravel driveway. Charles was coming down the steps, his face white and drawn.

"Dan, I cannot find her, and there is cholera here. Mrs. Van Rensselaer is lying desperately ill upstairs! There is another woman caring for her and she says Dawn has gone."

He buried his face in his hands and stood still. Dan thought he was going to fall.

"Don't!" said Dan. "I've found her. Come!" He eagerly drew Charles along the garden walk.

"Oh, do you mean it? Are you sure, Dan?"

"Sure," said the boy. "Rags found her. She's asleep. Walk softly."

"Is there anything the matter with her, Dan?" said Charles apprehensively, yet waited not to hear the answer, for at that instant he reached the arbor, almost stumbling over Rags, who jumped upon him with delight and wagged and wriggled himself joyously—albeit silently.

But Charles stood still and gazed at his beloved. His hungry eyes drank in her loveliness, his anxious heart searched keenly for any sign of illness. He felt himself growing weak with fear and joy.

Dan stood silent behind him, his own face lighting with the other's joy and solemn rejoicing that they had found her.

Not so Rags. He thought the time had come for the princess to awaken and he laid a cold, audacious nose in the open palm of Dawn's pink hand. She at once opened her eyes.

"Dawn! My darling!" murmured Charles, and dropped upon his knees beside her.

Rags was beside himself with joy now. He had brought the teacher to life. But Dan grasped him by the collar and drew him away. He and Rags might rejoice, but it was not for them to intrude at such a time as this.

Charles gathered his young wife into his arms, laying his face gently against hers, and over her stole a thrill of deep, solemn joy. He had come after her! He wanted her! She was loved! In spite of the way she had married him, she was beloved!

She closed her eyes and let the joy flow over her, a sweet, sweet pain, till almost it took her breath away, and brought tears to her happy eyes. He kissed them away, and said over and over, "My darling! My darling! I have found you at last!" and she nestled closer to him and hid her face against his breast.

It seemed a long time to Rags, and finally he broke away from his master with a bound and stood barking joyously at their feet.

"Oh, there is Rags!" exclaimed Dawn, with a happy little laugh. "Dear Rags!"

"Yes!" said Rags in his own way. "Dear Teacher! I'm glad I found you!"

"And Dan is here, too," said Charles. "Come here, Dan, and share our joy."

Then came Daniel, his face red with embarrassment, and stood bashfully before her.

"I found him, and he's helped me to find you, dear," said Charles. "He's told me all about everything."

All dishevelled as she was, with her lovely hair about her shoulders, Dawn stood bravely to receive him, and put out both hands to the boy.

"Dear Dan!" she said.

She took his hands in hers for an instant, and Dan bowed his head, but he had nothing to say. He felt that he had received a benediction. Rags saw how he felt about it and tried to help him out.

"Me, too!" he barked, and Dawn, laughing, stooped and patted the dog lovingly, while he wriggled himself half in two in his joy.

"But have you had any breakfast?" asked Charles, with sweet responsibility in his tone, as Dawn shook back her curls and gathered them into a knot on her head, fastening them with her comb quite properly. Dan lowered his eyes deferentially and looked away from the pretty sight, knowing it was not for him.

Dawn's face grew grave.

"Is it morning?" said she. "How could I have slept so long when there was so much to be done! Mrs. Van Rensselaer——"

"I know, dear," Charles stopped her, "but she is being cared for. The woman told me she seemed a little better. I got her letter last evening, and we came at once, Dan and I. We had been down to New York, hunting you, and just missed you. We had gone home utterly discouraged, when this note came, just these words, 'Dawn is here.' We started at once. How long had she been ill?"

"The letter?" said Dawn. "I don't understand. I just came myself yesterday morning. She was very ill when I got here. She couldn't have mailed any letter, unless—— Oh, it must be that she dragged herself out and sent it while I was hunting hot water and a doctor for her? The doctor found her lying at the gate unconscious, and brought her in."

"She had done you a great injury," said Charles, with a grave face.

"But she almost gave her life to make it right again," said Dawn solemnly. "I have heard exertion is usually fatal in cholera. And she asked me twice to forgive her. Think of that! Wasn't it wonderful? But you don't know her and can't understand how unlike her that seems."

Dawn was crying softly now, and Charles soothed her anxiously.

"You must put the thought of it away, dear, or you will be ill, too. Are you sure you feel quite well? It was a terrible experience for you to have to go through alone. Come, we must get you something to eat at once. What did you have last? I hope you ate nothing that had been around the sick-room."

"I ate two boiled eggs," said Dawn, smiling through her tears. "It was all I could find, and I was too tired to make a fire."

"Dear child!" said Charles. "But it was the best thing you could have done, I guess. Dan, there's that broth we brought along. Betty put up enough for a regiment."

"We will go to the kitchen and make a fire," said Dawn. "You must have breakfast, too. You have had a long, hard ride."

"Yes, breakfast!" barked Rags impolitely.

Charles grew grave at once.

"Now, Dawn, you must not go near that house again. You have been sufficiently exposed already. Dan and I will bring you some breakfast. I don't like the idea of your eating anything that comes out of that house. It isn't safe. Couldn't we make a little fire there at the edge of the woods and warm that broth? If we had a tin dish——"

"There's a long-handled saucepan in the kitchen," said Dawn. "I'll go and get it."

"You'll stay right here," said Dan, in his kindly, gruff way. "I'll go and get it."

Before they could stop him, he had gone, and in a few minutes he returned with a pail of water, a tea-kettle, a saucepan, and three cups. Then he gathered sticks, and he and Charles made the fire, rigging up a kind of crane to hold the kettle. Soon they had hot water to pour over the dishes, and then Dawn heated the broth, and they each had a good cupful. Even Rags had a few spoonfuls, though he sat up quite politely at a word from Dan, with his head cocked sideways, and a knowing look, as much as to say, "Serve yourselves first, and I'll lick the dishes."

After all, it was Dan who did everything for them. He told Charles that it was best he should stay with his wife and guard her. There was no telling but she might get sick or something, and it was not safe for her to be left alone just now. Besides, it was Charles's business to care for her, and for that reason he must keep out of danger himself. What would happen to Dawn if Charles should get the cholera?

"But you might get it yourself, Dan, and we'd never forgive ourselves."

"Aw!" said Dan, turning away in scorn. "Don't you worry 'bout me."

So Dan had his way. When the doctor came he agreed with Charles that Dawn should be gotten away at once into a high, healthy region. By this time Mrs. Van Rensselaer's brother had arrived with a faithful family servant. There was no need to stay. Mrs. Van Rensselaer had roused herself to add her voice of urgency that Dawn go at once away from contagion. So they hitched their horses to the big Van Rensselaer carriage and rode away on a second wedding journey, attended by Dan and Rags, two faithful servitors.

Once during the afternoon, when Dan had left them for a few minutes, they had looked after him lovingly:

"Dear Dan!" said Charles. "I don't know what I should have done without him. He must have his college course. How would you like to have us send him to Harvard as a sort of thank-offering for what he has done for us?"

And Dawn smiled happily into her husband's eyes as she answered:

"Oh, how beautiful! Could we?"

They planned it all out briefly then, and that evening, at the setting of the sun, as they rode forth from the plague-stricken village toward the high, cool hills where waited the little white house, Charles broached the subject to Dan.

Charles and Dawn were in the back seat, Dan driving in front, with Rags at his feet, with his head held proudly, as if he had always ridden in a carriage with two gray horses.

"Dan," said Charles, leaning forward a little that he might the better see the boy's face, "when Dawn and I go back to Cambridge in the fall, for my last year at Harvard, we're going to take you with us."

Rags smiled widely. He had heard the talk in the afternoon, and he expected to go to college himself.

Dan turned with a radiant, awed face, and grasped Charles's hand.

"Could I?" he asked eagerly. "How could I?"

"You may need some preparation," said Charles. "Wouldn't it be a good idea for you to come up to our house in the hills and let me coach you? How about it, Dawn? We have always room for Dan, haven't we?"

And Dawn, smiling and happy, assured the boy that he would always be welcome.

Later, when Charles drew Dawn's head down upon his shoulder in the darkness, put his arm close about her, and with his free hand held both of hers, there was tender joy and thankfulness.

Dan and Rags, up in front, knew that there were depths of happiness in the back seat not for them, but they were content, for were they not going to college, and in company with the two they loved best of all?

A week later Charles and Dawn stood together on the hillside, in front of their own little house. It was very early in the morning, and off beyond another hill the sun was just flashing into view—a great red disc against a sky of amethyst and opal. Hill, valley, winding river, and every tree and shrub were touched with the glory of the dawn.

They were watching Dan ride away to his home, to gather his belongings, and prepare his family for the new order of his life.

In the afternoon Betty was to arrive by stage-coach. She was to spend the rest of the hot weather in the cool hills with them, until the cholera had disappeared. This was their first time absolutely alone together since they had known each other.

They stood silent, watching the gray figure of horse and man as it proceeded slowly down the hillside and disappeared among the trees in the shadowy road, where night was yet lurking. Slowly, slowly, the sun slipped up, until a great ball of ruby light grew into a brilliant glory their eyes could not look upon. And stretched before them lay the day, with all its radiant possibilities.

"'And he shall be as the light of the morning when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain,'" quoted Charles solemnly.

They involuntarily drew closer together as they looked. Then the husband put his arm about the wife and, looking down upon her, said:

"Dawn of the Morning, do you know that you are like all that to me?"

She hid her happy face on his shoulder, and he bent down and whispered:

"Darling! Dawn of my morning! My Dawn!"

THE NOVELS OF GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL