the sunday before lance gardley started east on his journey of reparation two strangers slipped quietly into the back of the school-house during the singing of the first hymn and sat down in the shadow by the door.
margaret was playing the piano when they came in, and did not see them, and when she turned back to her scripture lesson she had time for but the briefest of glances. she supposed they must be some visitors from the fort, as they were speaking to the captain's wife——who came over occasionally to the sunday service, perhaps because it afforded an opportunity for a ride with one of the young officers. these occasional visitors who came for amusement and curiosity had ceased to trouble margaret. her real work was with the men and women and children who loved the services for their own sake, and she tried as much as possible to forget outsiders. so, that day everything went on just as usual, margaret putting her heart into the prayer, the simple, storylike reading of the scripture, and the other story-sermon which followed it. gardley sang unusually well at the close, a wonderful bit from an oratorio that he and margaret had been practising.
but when toward the close of the little vesper service margaret gave opportunity, as she often did, for others to take part in sentence prayers, one of the strangers from the back of the room stood up and began to pray. and such a prayer! heaven seemed to bend low, and earth to kneel and beseech as the stranger-man, with a face like an archangel, and a body of an athlete clothed in a brown-flannel shirt and khakis, besought the lord of heaven for a blessing on this gathering and on the leader of this little company who had so wonderfully led them to see the christ and their need of salvation through the lesson of the day. and it did not need bud's low-breathed whisper, "the missionary!" to tell margaret who he was. his face told her. his prayer thrilled her, and his strong, young, true voice made her sure that here was a man of god in truth.
when the prayer was over and margaret stood once more shyly facing her audience, she could scarcely keep the tremble out of her voice:
"oh," said she, casting aside ceremony, "if i had known the missionary was here i should not have dared to try and lead this meeting to-day. won't you please come up here and talk to us for a little while now, mr. brownleigh?"
at once he came forward eagerly, as if each opportunity were a pleasure. "why, surely, i want to speak a word to you, just to say how glad i am to see you all, and to experience what a wonderful teacher you have found since i went away; but i wouldn't have missed this meeting to-day for all the sermons i ever wrote or preached. you don't need any more sermon than the remarkable story you've just been listening to, and i've only one word to add; and that is, that i've found since i went away that jesus christ, the only-begotten son of god, is just the same jesus to me to-day that he was the last time i spoke to you. he is just as ready to forgive your sin, to comfort you in sorrow, to help you in temptation, to raise your body in the resurrection, and to take you home to a mansion in his father's house as he was the day he hung upon the cross to save your soul from death. i've found i can rest just as securely upon the bible as the word of god as when i first tested its promises. heaven and earth may pass away, but his word shall never pass away."
"go to it!" said jasper kemp under his breath in the tone some men say "amen!" and his brows were drawn as if he were watching a battle. margaret couldn't help wondering if he were thinking of the rev. frederick west just then.
when the service was over the missionary brought his wife forward to margaret, and they loved each other at once. just another sweet girl like margaret. she was lovely, with a delicacy of feature that betokened the high-born and high-bred, but dressed in a dainty khaki riding costume, if that uncompromising fabric could ever be called dainty. margaret, remembering it afterward, wondered what it had been that gave it that unique individuality, and decided it was perhaps a combination of cut and finish and little dainty accessories. a bit of creamy lace at the throat of the rolling collar, a touch of golden-brown velvet in a golden clasp, the flash of a wonderful jewel on her finger, the modeling of the small, brown cap with its two eagle quills—all set the little woman apart and made her fit to enter any well-dressed company of riders in some great city park or fashionable drive. yet here in the wilderness she was not overdressed.
the eight men from the camp stood in solemn row, waiting to be recognized, and behind them, abashed and grinning with embarrassment, stood pop and mom wallis, mom with her new gray bonnet glorifying her old face till the missionary's wife had to look twice to be sure who she was.
"and now, surely, hazel, we must have these dear people come over and help us with the singing sometimes. can't we try something right now?" said the missionary, looking first at his wife and then at margaret and gardley. "this man is a new-comer since i went away, but i'm mighty sure he is the right kind, and i'm glad to welcome him—or perhaps i would better ask if he will welcome me?" and with his rare smile the missionary put out his hand to gardley, who took it with an eager grasp. the two men stood looking at each other for a moment, as rare men, rarely met, sometimes do even on a sinful earth; and after that clasp and that look they turned away, brothers for life.
that was a most interesting song rehearsal that followed. it would be rare to find four voices like those even in a cultivated musical center, and they blended as if they had been made for one another. the men from the bunk-house and a lot of other people silently dropped again into their seats to listen as the four sang on. the missionary took the bass, and his wife the alto, and the four made music worth listening to. the rare and lovely thing about it was that they sang to souls, not alone for ears, and so their music, classical though it was and of the highest order, appealed keenly to the hearts of these rough men, and made them feel that heaven had opened for them, as once before for untaught shepherds, and let down a ladder of angelic voices.
"i shall feel better about leaving you out here while i am gone, since they have come," said gardley that night when he was bidding margaret good night. "i couldn't bear to think there were none of your own kind about you. the others are devoted and would do for you with their lives if need be, as far as they know; but i like you to have real friends—real christian friends. this man is what i call a christian. i'm not sure but he is the first minister that i have ever come close to who has impressed me as believing what he preaches, and living it. i suppose there are others. i haven't known many. that man west that was here when you came was a mistake!"
"he didn't even preach much," smiled margaret, "so how could he live it? this man is real. and there are others. oh, i have known a lot of them that are living lives of sacrifice and loving service and are yet just as strong and happy and delightful as if they were millionaires. but they are the men who have not thrown away their bibles and their christ. they believe every promise in god's word, and rest on them day by day, testing them and proving them over and over. i wish you knew my father!"
"i am going to," said gardley, proudly. "i am going to him just as soon as i have finished my business and straightened out my affairs; and i am going to tell him everything—with your permission, margaret!"
"oh, how beautiful!" cried margaret, with happy tears in her eyes. "to think you are going to see father and mother. i have wanted them to know the real you. i couldn't half tell you, the real you, in a letter!"
"perhaps they won't look on me with your sweet blindness, dear," he said, smiling tenderly down on her. "perhaps they will see only my dark, past life—for i mean to tell your father everything. i'm not going to have any skeletons in the closet to cause pain hereafter. perhaps your father and mother will not feel like giving their daughter to me after they know. remember, i realize just what a rare prize she is."
"no, father is not like that, lance," said margaret, with her rare smile lighting up her happy eyes. "father and mother will understand."
"but if they should not?" there was the shadow of sadness in gardley's eyes as he asked the question.
"i belong to you, dear, anyway," she said, with sweet surrender. "i trust you though the whole world were against you!"
for answer gardley took her in his arms, a look of awe upon his face, and, stooping, laid his lips upon hers in tender reverence.
"margaret—you wonderful margaret!" he said. "god has blessed me more than other men in sending you to me! with his help i will be worthy of you!"
three days more and margaret was alone with her school work, her two missionary friends thirty miles away, her eager watching for the mail to come, her faithful attendant bud, and for comfort the purple mountain with its changing glory in the distance.
a few days before gardley left for the east he had been offered a position by rogers as general manager of his estate at a fine salary, and after consultation with margaret he decided to accept it, but the question of their marriage they had left by common consent unsettled until gardley should return and be able to offer his future wife a record made as fair and clean as human effort could make it after human mistakes had unmade it. as margaret worked and waited, wrote her charming letters to father and mother and lover, and thought her happy thoughts with only the mountain for confidant, she did not plan for the future except in a dim and dreamy way. she would make those plans with gardley when he returned. probably they must wait some time before they could be married. gardley would have to earn some money, and she must earn, too. she must keep the ashland school for another year. it had been rather understood, when she came out, that if at all possible she would remain two years at least. it was hard to think of not going home for the summer vacation; but the trip cost a great deal and was not to be thought of. there was already a plan suggested to have a summer session of the school, and if that went through, of course she must stay right in ashland. it was hard to think of not seeing her father and mother for another long year, but perhaps gardley would be returning before the summer was over, and then it would not be so hard. however, she tried to put these thoughts out of her mind and do her work happily. it was incredible that arizona should have become suddenly so blank and uninteresting since the departure of a man whom she had not known a few short months before.
margaret had long since written to her father and mother about gardley's first finding her in the desert. the thing had become history and was not likely to alarm them. she had been in arizona long enough to be acquainted with things, and they would not be always thinking of her as sitting on stray water-tanks in the desert; so she told them about it, for she wanted them to know gardley as he had been to her. the letters that had traveled back and forth between new york and arizona had been full of gardley; and still margaret had not told her parents how it was between them. gardley had asked that he might do that. yet it had been a blind father and mother who had not long ago read between the lines of those letters and understood. margaret fancied she detected a certain sense of relief in her mother's letters after she knew that gardley had gone east. were they worrying about him, she wondered, or was it just the natural dread of a mother to lose her child?
so margaret settled down to school routine, and more and more made a confidant of bud concerning little matters of the school. if it had not been for bud at that time margaret would have been lonely indeed.
two or three times since gardley left, the brownleighs had ridden over to sunday service, and once had stopped for a few minutes during the week on their way to visit some distant need. these occasions were a delight to margaret, for hazel brownleigh was a kindred spirit. she was looking forward with pleasure to the visit she was to make them at the mission station as soon as school closed. she had been there once with gardley before he left, but the ride was too long to go often, and the only escort available was bud. besides, she could not get away from school and the sunday service at present; but it was pleasant to have something to look forward to.
meantime the spring commencement was coming on and margaret had her hands full. she had undertaken to inaugurate a real commencement with class day and as much form and ceremony as she could introduce in order to create a good school spirit; but such things are not done with the turn of a hand, and the young teacher sadly missed gardley in all these preparations.
at this time rosa rogers was margaret's particular thorn in the flesh.
since the night that forsythe had quit the play and ridden forth into the darkness rosa had regarded her teacher with baleful eyes. gardley, too, she hated, and was only waiting with smoldering wrath until her wild, ungoverned soul could take its revenge. she felt that but for those two forsythe would still have been with her.
margaret, realizing the passionate, untaught nature of the motherless girl and her great need of a friend to guide her, made attempt after attempt to reach and befriend her; but every attempt was met with repulse and the sharp word of scorn. rosa had been too long the petted darling of a father who was utterly blind to her faults to be other than spoiled. her own way was the one thing that ruled her. by her will she had ruled every nurse and servant about the place, and wheedled her father into letting her do anything the whim prompted. twice her father, through the advice of friends, had tried the experiment of sending her away to school, once to an eastern finishing school, and once to a convent on the pacific coast, only to have her return shortly by request of the school, more wilful than when she had gone away. and now she ruled supreme in her father's home, disliked by most of the servants save those whom she chose to favor because they could be made to serve her purposes. her father, engrossed in his business and away much of the time, was bound up in her and saw few of her faults. it is true that when a fault of hers did come to his notice, however, he dealt with it most severely, and grieved over it in secret, for the girl was much like the mother whose loss had emptied the world of its joy for him. but rosa knew well how to manage her father and wheedle him, and also how to hide her own doings from his knowledge.
rosa's eyes, dimples, pink cheeks, and coquettish little mouth were not idle in these days. she knew how to have every pupil at her feet and ready to obey her slightest wish. she wielded her power to its fullest extent as the summer drew near, and day after day saw a slow torture for margaret. some days the menacing air of insurrection fairly bristled in the room, and margaret could not understand how some of her most devoted followers seemed to be in the forefront of battle, until one day she looked up quickly and caught the lynx-eyed glance of rosa as she turned from smiling at the boys in the back seat. then she understood. rosa had cast her spell upon the boys, and they were acting under it and not of their own clear judgment. it was the world-old battle of sex, of woman against woman for the winning of the man to do her will. margaret, using all the charm of her lovely personality to uphold standards of right, truth, purity, high living, and earnest thinking; rosa striving with her impish beauty to lure them into any mischief so it foiled the other's purposes. and one day margaret faced the girl alone, looking steadily into her eyes with sad, searching gaze, and almost a yearning to try to lead the pretty child to finer things.
"rosa, why do you always act as if i were your enemy?" she said, sadly.
"because you are!" said rosa, with a toss of her independent head.
"indeed i'm not, dear child," she said, putting out her hand to lay it on the girl's shoulder kindly. "i want to be your friend."
"i'm not a child!" snapped rosa, jerking her shoulder angrily away; "and you can never be my friend, because i hate you!"
"rosa, look here!" said margaret, following the girl toward the door, the color rising in her cheeks and a desire growing in her heart to conquer this poor, passionate creature and win her for better things. "rosa, i cannot have you say such things. tell me why you hate me? what have i done that you should feel that way? i'm sure if we should talk it over we might come to some better understanding."
rosa stood defiant in the doorway. "we could never come to any better understanding, miss earle," she declared in a cold, hard tone, "because i understand you now and i hate you. you tried your best to get my friend away from me, but you couldn't do it; and you would like to keep me from having any boy friends at all, but you can't do that, either. you think you are very popular, but you'll find out i always do what i like, and you needn't try to stop me. i don't have to come to school unless i choose, and as long as i don't break your rules you have no complaint coming; but you needn't think you can pull the wool over my eyes the way you do the others by pretending to be friends. i won't be friends! i hate you!" and rosa turned grandly and marched out of the school-house.
margaret stood gazing sadly after her and wondering if her failure here were her fault—if there was anything else she ought to have done—if she had let her personal dislike of the girl influence her conduct. she sat for some time at her desk, her chin in her hands, her eyes fixed on vacancy with a hopeless, discouraged expression in them, before she became aware of another presence in the room. looking around quickly, she saw that bud was sitting motionless at his desk, his forehead wrinkled in a fierce frown, his jaw set belligerently, and a look of such, unutterable pity and devotion in his eyes that her heart warmed to him at once and a smile of comradeship broke over her face.
"oh, william! were you here? did you hear all that? what do you suppose is the matter? where have i failed?"
"you 'ain't failed anywhere! you should worry 'bout her! she's a nut! if she was a boy i'd punch her head for her! but seeing she's only a girl, you should worry! she always was the limit!"
bud's tone was forcible. he was the only one of all the boys who never yielded to rosa's charms, but sat in glowering silence when she exercised her powers on the school and created pandemonium for the teacher. bud's attitude was comforting. it had a touch of manliness and gentleness about it quite unwonted for him. it suggested beautiful possibilities for the future of his character, and margaret smiled tenderly.
"thank you, dear boy!" she said, gently. "you certainly are a comfort. if every one was as splendid as you are we should have a model school. but i do wish i could help rosa. i can't see why she should hate me so! i must have made some big mistake with her in the first place to antagonize her."
"naw!" said bud, roughly. "no chance! she's just a nut, that's all. she's got a case on that forsythe guy, the worst kind, and she's afraid somebody 'll get him away from her, the poor stew, as if anybody would get a case on a tough guy like that! gee! you should worry! come on, let's take a ride over t' camp!"
with a sigh and a smile margaret accepted bud's consolations and went on her way, trying to find some manner of showing rosa what a real friend she was willing to be. but rosa continued obdurate and hateful, regarding her teacher with haughty indifference except when she was called upon to recite, which she did sometimes with scornful condescension, sometimes with pert perfection, and sometimes with saucy humor which convulsed the whole room. margaret's patience was almost ceasing to be a virtue, and she meditated often whether she ought not to request that the girl be withdrawn from the school. yet she reflected that it was a very short time now until commencement, and that rosa had not openly defied any rules. it was merely a personal antagonism. then, too, if rosa were taken from the school there was really no other good influence in the girl's life at present. day by day margaret prayed about the matter and hoped that something would develop to make plain her way.
after much thought in the matter she decided to go on with her plans, letting rosa have her place in the commencement program and her part in the class-day doings as if nothing were the matter. certainly there was nothing laid down in the rules of a public school that proscribed a scholar who did not love her teacher. why should the fact that one had incurred the hate of a pupil unfit that pupil for her place in her class so long as she did her duties? and rosa did hers promptly and deftly, with a certain piquant originality that margaret could not help but admire.
sometimes, as the teacher cast a furtive look at the pretty girl working away at her desk, she wondered what was going on behind the lovely mask. but the look in rosa's eyes, when she raised them, was both deep and sly.
rosa's hatred was indeed deep rooted. whatever heart she had not frivoled away in wilfulness had been caught and won by forsythe, the first grown man who had ever dared to make real love to her. her jealousy of margaret was the most intense thing that had ever come into her life. to think of him looking at margaret, talking to margaret, smiling at margaret, walking or riding with margaret, was enough to send her writhing upon her bed in the darkness of a wakeful night. she would clench her pretty hands until the nails dug into the flesh and brought the blood. she would bite the pillow or the blankets with an almost fiendish clenching of her teeth upon them and mutter, as she did so: "i hate her! i hate her! i could kill her!"
the day her first letter came from forsythe, rosa held her head high and went about the school as if she were a princess royal and margaret were the dust under her feet. triumph sat upon her like a crown and looked forth regally from her eyes. she laid her hand upon her heart and felt the crackle of his letter inside her blouse. she dreamed with her eyes upon the distant mountain and thought of the tender names he had called her: "little wild rose of his heart," "no rose in all the world until you came," and a lot of other meaningful sentences. a real love-letter all her own! no sharing him with any hateful teachers! he had implied in her letter that she was the only one of all the people in that region to whom he cared to write. he had said he was coming back some day to get her. her young, wild heart throbbed exultantly, and her eyes looked forth their triumph malignantly. when he did come she would take care that he stayed close by her. no conceited teacher from the east should lure him from her side. she would prepare her guiles and smile her sweetest. she would wear fine garments from abroad, and show him she could far outshine that quiet, common miss earle, with all her airs. yet to this end she studied hard. it was no part of her plan to be left behind at graduating-time. she would please her father by taking a prominent part in things and outdoing all the others. then he would give her what she liked—jewels and silk dresses, and all the things a girl should have who had won a lover like hers.
the last busy days before commencement were especially trying for margaret. it seemed as if the children were possessed with the very spirit of mischief, and she could not help but see that it was rosa who, sitting demurely in her desk, was the center of it all. only bud's steady, frowning countenance of all that rollicking, roistering crowd kept loyalty with the really beloved teacher. for, indeed, they loved her, every one but rosa, and would have stood by her to a man and girl when it really came to the pinch, but in a matter like a little bit of fun in these last few days of school, and when challenged to it by the school beauty who did not usually condescend to any but a few of the older boys, where was the harm? they were so flattered by rosa's smiles that they failed to see margaret's worn, weary wistfulness.
bud, coming into the school-house late one afternoon in search of her after the other scholars had gone, found margaret with her head down upon the desk and her shoulders shaken with soundless sobs. he stood for a second silent in the doorway, gazing helplessly at her grief, then with the delicacy of one boy for another he slipped back outside the door and stood in the shadow, grinding his teeth.
"gee!" he said, under his breath. "oh, gee! i'd like to punch her fool head. i don't care if she is a girl! she needs it. gee! if she was a boy wouldn't i settle her, the little darned mean sneak!"
his remarks, it is needless to say, did not have reference to his beloved teacher.
it was in the atmosphere everywhere that something was bound to happen if this strain kept up. margaret knew it and felt utterly inadequate to meet it. rosa knew it and was awaiting her opportunity. bud knew it and could only stand and watch where the blow was to strike first and be ready to ward it off. in these days he wished fervently for gardley's return. he did not know just what gardley could do about "that little fool," as he called rosa, but it would be a relief to be able to tell some one all about it. if he only dared leave he would go over and tell jasper kemp about it, just to share his burden with somebody. but as it was he must stick to the job for the present and bear his great responsibility, and so the days hastened by to the last sunday before commencement, which was to be on monday.
