Lucky Piece: A Story of the North Woods — The Lucky Piece - Epilogue

THE LUCKY PIECE

True to her promise, Constance was at the Lodge early next morning.

Frank, a trifle pale and solemn, waited on the veranda steps.

Yet he greeted her cheerfully enough, for the Circle of Industry, daily dwindling in numbers but still a quorum, was already in session, and Miss Carroway and the little woman in black had sharp eyes and ears.

Constance went over to speak to this group.

With Miss Carroway she shook hands.

Frank lingered by the steps, waiting for her, but instead of returning she disappeared into the Lodge and was gone several minutes.

"I wanted to see Miss Morrison," she exclaimed, in a voice loud enough for all to hear.

"She did not seem very well last night.

I find she is much better this morning."

Frank did not make any reply, or look at her.

He could not at all comprehend.

They set out in the old way, only they did not carry the basket and book of former days, nor did the group on the veranda call after them with warning and advice.

But Miss Carroway looked over to the little woman in black with a smile of triumph.

And Mrs. Kitcher grimly returned the look with another which may have meant "wait and see."

A wonderful September morning had followed the perfect September night.

There was a smack of frost in the air, but now, with the flooding sunlight, the glow of early autumn and the odors of dying summer time, the world seemed filled with anodyne and glory.

Frank and Constance followed the road a little way and then, just beyond the turn, the girl led off into a narrow wood trail to the right--the same they had followed that day when they had visited the Devil's Garden.

She did not pause for that now.

She pushed ahead as one who knew her ground from old acquaintance, with that rapid swinging walk of hers which seemed always to make her a part of these mountains, and their uncertain barricaded trails.

Frank followed behind, rarely speaking save to comment upon some unusual appearance in nature--wondering at her purpose in it all, realizing that they had never continued so far in this direction before.

They had gone something less than a mile, perhaps, when they heard the sound of tumbling water, and a few moments later were upon the banks of a broad stream that rushed and foamed between the bowlders.

Frank said, quietly: "This is like the stream where I caught the big trout--you remember?"

"It is the same," she said, "only that was much farther up.

Come, we will cross."

He put out his hand as if to assist her.

She did not take it, but stepped lightly to a large stone, then to another and another--springing a little to one side here, just touching a bowlder all but covered with water there, and so on, almost more rapidly than Frank could follow--as one who knew every footing of that uncertain causeway.

They were on the other side presently, and took up the trail there.

"I did not know you were so handy crossing streams," said Frank.

"I never saw you do it before."

"But that was not hard.

I have crossed many worse ones.

Perhaps I was lighter of foot then."

They now passed through another stretch of timber, Constance still leading the way.

The trail was scarcely discernible here and there, as one not often used, but she did not pause.

They had gone nearly a mile farther when a break of light appeared ahead, and presently they came to a stone wall and a traveled road.

Constance did not scale the wall, but seated herself on it as if to rest.

A few feet away Frank leaned against the barrier, looking at the road and then at his companion, curious but silent.

Presently Constance said: "You are wondering what I have to tell you, and why I have brought you all this way to tell it.

Also, how I could follow the trail so easily--aren't you?"

and she smiled up at him in the old way.

"Yes," admitted Frank; "though as for the trail, I suppose you must have been over it before--some of those times before I came."

She nodded.

"That is true.

You were not here when I traveled this trail before.

It was Robin who came with me the last time.

But that was long ago--almost ten years."

"You have a good memory."

"Yes, very good--better than yours.

That is why I brought you here to-day--to refresh your memory."

There was something of the old banter in her voice, and something in her expression, inscrutable though it was, that for some reason set his heart to beating.

He wondered if she could be playing with him.

He could not understand, and said as much.

"You brought me here to tell me a story," he concluded.

"Isn't that what you said?

I shall miss the Lake Placid hack if we do not start back presently."

Again that inscrutable, disturbing look.

"Is it so necessary that you should start to-day?"

she asked.

"Mr. Meelie, I am sure, will appreciate your company just as much another time.

And to-day is ours."

That look--it kept him from saying something bitter then.

"The story--you are forgetting it," he said, quietly.

"No, I am not forgetting."

The banter had all gone out of her voice, and it had become gentle--almost tender.

A soft, far-away look had come into her eyes.

"I am only trying to think how to tell it--how to begin.

I

thought perhaps you might help me--only you don't--your memory is so poor."

He had no idea of her meaning now, and ventured no comment.

"You do not help me," she went on.

"I must tell my little story alone.

After all, it is only a sequel--do you care for sequels?"

There was something in her face just then that, had it not been for all that had come between them, might have made him take her in his arms.

"I--I care for what you are about to tell," he said.

She regarded him intently, and a great softness came into her eyes.

"It is the sequel of a story we heard together," she began, "that day on McIntyre, in the hermit's cabin.

You remember that he spoke of the other child--a little girl--hers.

This is the story of that little girl.

You have heard something of her already--how the brother toiled for her and his mother--how she did not fully understand the bitterness of it all.

Yet she tried to help--a little.

She thought of many things.

She had dreams that grew out of the fairy book her mother used to read to her, and she looked for Aladdin caves among the hills, and sometimes fancied herself borne away by the wind and the sea to some far Eastern land where the people would lay their treasures at her feet.

But more than all she waited for the wonderful fairy prince who would one day come to her with some magic talisman of fortune which would make them all rich, and happy ever after.

"Yet, while she dreamed, she really tried to help in other ways--little ways of her own--and in the summer she picked berries and, standing where the stage went by, she held them out to the tourists who, when the stage halted, sometimes bought them for a few pennies.

Oh, she was so glad when they bought them--the pennies were so precious--though it meant even more to her to be able to look for a moment into the faces of those strangers from another world, and to hear the very words that were spoken somewhere beyond the hills."

She paused, and Frank, who had leaned a bit nearer, started to speak, but she held up her hand for silence.

"One day, when the summer was over and all the people were going home--when she had gathered her last few berries, for the bushes were nearly bare--she stood at her place on the stone in front of the little house at the top of the hill, waiting for the stage.

But when it came, the people only looked at her, for the horses did not stop, but galloped past to the bottom of the hill, while she stood looking after them, holding that last saucer of berries, which nobody would buy.

"But at the foot of the hill the stage did stop, and a boy, oh, such a handsome boy and so finely dressed, leaped out and ran back all the way up the hill to her, and stood before her just like the prince in the fairy tales she had read, and told her he had come to buy her berries.

And then, just like the prince, he had only an enchanted coin--a talisman--his lucky piece.

And this he gave to her, and he made her take it.

He took her hand and shut it on the coin, promising he would come for it again some day, when he would give her for it anything she might wish, asking only that she keep it safe.

And then, like the prince, he was gone, leaving her there with the enchanted coin.

Oh, she hardly dared to look, for fear it might not be there after all.

But when she opened her hand at last and saw that it had not vanished, then she was sure that all the tales were true, for her fairy prince had come to her at last."

Again Frank leaned forward to speak, a new light shining in his face, and again she raised her hand to restrain him.

"You would not help me," she said, "your memory was so poor.

Now, you must let me tell the story.

"The child took the wonderful coin to her mother.

I think she was very much excited, for she wept and sobbed over the lucky talisman that was to bring fortune for them all.

And I know that her mother, pale, and in want, and ill, kissed her and smiled, and said that now the good days must surely come.

"They did not come that winter--a wild winter of fierce cold and terrible storms.

When it was over and the hills were green with summer, the tired mother went to sleep one day, and so found her good fortune in peace and rest.

"But for the little girl there came a fortune not unlike her dreams.

That year a rich man and woman had built a camp in the hills.

There was no Lodge, then; everything was wild, and supplies hard to get.

The child's brother sold vegetables to the camp, sometimes letting his little sister go with him.

And because she was of the same age as a little girl of the wealthy people, now and then they asked her to spend the day, playing, and her brother used to come all the way for her again at night.

There was one spot on the hillside where they used to play--an open, sunny place that they loved best of all--and this they named their Garden of Delight; and it was truly that to the little girl of the hills who had never had such companionship before.

"But then came a day when a black shadow lay on the Garden of Delight, for the little city child suddenly fell ill and died.

Oh, that was a terrible time.

Her mother nearly lost her mind, and was never quite the same again.

She would not confess that her child was dead, and she was too ill to be taken home to the city, so a little grave was made on the hillside where the children had played together, and by and by the feeble woman crept there to sit in the sun, and had the other little girl brought there to play, as if both were still living.

It was just then that the mother of Robin and his little sister died, and the city woman, when she heard of it, said to the little girl: 'You have no mother and I have no little girl.

I will be your mother and you shall be my little girl.

You shall have all the dresses and toys; even the name--I will give you that.'

She would have helped the boy, too, but he was independent, even then, and would accept nothing.

Then she made them both promise that neither would ever say to any one that the little girl was not really hers, and she made the little girl promise that she would not speak of it, even to her, for she wanted to make every one, even herself, believe that the child was really hers.

She thought in time it might take the cloud from her mind, and I believe it did, but it was years before she could even mention the little dead girl again.

And the boy and his sister kept their promise faithfully, though this was not hard to do, for the rich parents took the little girl away.

They sailed across the ocean, just as she had expected to do some day, and she had beautiful toys and dresses and books, just as had always happened in the fairy tales.

"They did not come back from across the ocean.

The child's foster father had interests there and could remain abroad for most of the year, and the mother cared nothing for America any more.

So the little girl grew up in another land, and did not see her brother again, and nobody knew that she was not really the child of the rich people, or, if any did know, they forgot.

"But the child remembered.

She remembered the mountains and the storms, and the little house at the top of the hill, and her mother, and the brother who had stayed among the hills, and who wrote now and then to tell them he was making his way.

But more than all she remembered the prince--her knight she called him as she grew older--because it seemed to her that he had been so noble and brave to come back up the hill and give her his lucky piece that had brought her all the fortune.

Always she kept the coin for him, ready when he should call for it, and when she read how Elaine had embroidered a silken covering for the shield of Launcelot, she also embroidered a little silken casing for the coin and wore it on her neck, and never a day or night did she let it go away from her.

Some day she would meet him again, and then she must have it ready, and being a romantic schoolgirl, she wondered sometimes what she might dare to claim for it in return.

For he would be a true, brave knight, one of high purpose and noble deeds; and by day the memory of the handsome boy flitted across her books, and by night she dreamed of him as he would some day come to her, all shining with glory and high resolve."

Again she paused, this time as if waiting for him to speak.

But now he only stared at the bushes in front of him, and she thought he had grown a little pale.

She stepped across the wall into the road.

"Come," she said; "I will tell you the rest as we walk along."

He followed her over the wall.

They were at the foot of a hill, at the top of which there was a weather-beaten little ruin, once a home.

He recognized the spot instantly, though the hill seemed shorter to him, and less steep.

He turned and looked at her.

"My memory has all come back," he said; "I know all the rest of the story."

"But I must tell it to you.

I must finish what I have begun.

The girl kept the talisman all the years, as I have said, often taking it out of the embroidered case to study its markings, which she learned to understand.

And she never lost faith in it, and she never failed to believe that one day the knight with the brave, true heart would come to claim it and to fulfill his bond.

"And by and by her school-days were ended, and then her parents decided to return to their native land.

The years had tempered the mother's sorrow, and brought back a measure of health.

So they came back to America, and for the girl's sake mingled with gay people, and by and by, one day--it was at a fine place and there were many fine folk there--she saw him.

She saw the boy who had been her fairy prince--who had become her knight--who had been her dream all through the years.

"She knew him instantly, for he looked just as she had known he would look.

He had not changed, only to grow taller, more manly and more gentle--just as she had known he would grow with the years.

She thought he would come to her--that like every fairy prince, he must know--but when at last he stood before her, and she was trembling so that she could hardly stand, he bowed and spoke only as a stranger might.

He had forgotten--his memory was so poor.

"Yet something must have drawn him to her.

For he came often to where she was, and by and by they rode and drove and golfed together over the hills, during days that were few but golden, for the child had found once more her prince of the magic coin--the knight who did not remember, yet who would one day win his coin--and again she dreamed, this time of an uplifting, noble life, and of splendid ambitions realized together.

"But, then, little by little, she became aware that he was not truly a knight of deeds--that he was only a prince of pleasure, poor of ambition and uncertain of purpose--that he cared for little beyond ease and pastime, and that perhaps his love-making was only a part of it all.

This was a rude awakening for the girl.

It made her unhappy, and it made her act strangely.

She tried to rouse him, to stimulate him to do and to be many things.

But she was foolish and ignorant and made absurd mistakes, and he only laughed at her.

She knew that he was strong and capable and could be anything he chose, if he only would.

But she could not choose for him, and he seemed willing to drift and would not choose for himself.

"Then, by and by, she returned to her beloved mountains.

She found the little cottage at the hill-top a deserted ruin, the Garden of Delight with its little grave was overgrown.

There was one recompense.

The brother she had not seen since her childhood had become a noble, handsome man, of whom she could well be proud.

No one knew that he was her brother, and she could not tell them, though perhaps she could not avoid showing her affection and her pride in him, and these things were misunderstood and caused suspicion and heartache and bitterness.

"Yet the results were not all evil, for out of it there came a moment when she saw, almost as a new being, him who had been so much a part of her life so long."

They were nearly at the top of the hill now.

But a little more and they would reach the spot where ten years before the child with the saucer of berries had waited for the passing stage.

"He had awakened at last," she went on, "but the girl did not know it.

She did not realize that he had renewed old hopes and ambitions; that some feeling in his heart for her had stirred old purposes into new resolves.

He did not tell her, though unconsciously she may have known, for after a day of adventure together on the hills something of the old romance returned, and her old ideal of knighthood little by little seemed about to be restored.

And then, all at once, it came--the hour of real trial, with a test of which she could not even have dreamed--and he stood before her, glorified."

They were at the hill-top.

The flat stone in front of the tumbled house still remained.

As they reached it she stopped, and turning suddenly stretched out her hand to him, slowly opening it to disclose a little silken case.

Her eyes were wet with tears.

"Oh, my dear!"

she said.

"Here, where you gave me the talisman, I return it.

I have kept it for you all the years.

It brought me whatever the world had to give--friends, fortune, health.

You did not claim it, dear;

but it is yours, and in return, oh, my fairy prince--my true knight--I claim the world's best treasure--a brave man's faithful love!"

EPILOGUE

It is a lonely thoroughfare, that North Elba road.

Not many teams pass to and fro, and the clattering stage was still a mile away.

The eternal peaks alone looked down upon these two, for it is not likely that even the leveled glass of any hermit of the mountain-tops saw what passed between them.

Only, from Algonquin and Tahawus there came a gay little wind--the first brisk puff of autumn--and frolicking through a yellow tree in the forsaken door-yard it sent fluttering about them a shower of drifting gold.

THE END

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