Middletown transcript., 1912-06-22
CHAPTER XIV.
The Drauqht Of Joy.


room in Robert Maitland's magnificent
mansion in Denver's most favored res
ldenos section. It was q long, low
studded room with q heavy beamed
ceiling. The low book cases, about
i've feet high, ran between all the
windows and doors on all sides Of the
room. At one end there was a huge
open IRE place built Of rough stone,
and aa It was winter a cheerful fire
Of logs blaEed on the hearth. It was
. mans room pre-eminently. The
Arawing.room across the hall was Mrs.
MRitland's domain, but the library re-
Ascted her husbands picturesque If
somewhat erratic taste. On the
walls there were pictures Of
the west by Remington, March
and. Dunton. Dixon and others,
and to set them OF, finely mount
ed heads Of bear and deer and buffalo.
Swords and other arms stood here and
there. The writing table was massive
and the chairs easy, comfortable and
inviting. The floor was strewn with
robes and rugs. From. the windows
facing westward, since the house was
set on a high hill, one could see the
great rampant Of the range.
There were three men in the room
on that brilliant morning early in jan
uAry something like month after
these adventures in the mountains
which have been 30 veraciously
set forth. Two Of them were the
brothers Maitland; the third was New
bold.
The shock produced upon Enid Matt
land by the death of Armstrong to-
Gether with the tremendous episodes
that had preceded 1t had utterly pros
strated her. They had spent the
night at the hut in the mountains and
had decided that the woman must be
taken back to the settlements some
way at all hazards.
The wit Of old Kirkby had effected
. solution of the problem, using a
means certainly as old as Napoleon
and the passage Of his cannon over
the Great st. Bernard-Rnd perhaps as
old as Hannibal! They had made a
rude sled from the trunk Of a pine
which they followed out and provided
with q back and runners. There was
NO lack Of fur robes and blankets for
her comfort.
Wherever 1t was practicable the
three men hitched themselves to the
sled with ropes and dragged it and
Enid over the snow. OF course for
miles down the canon it was impossi-
BILE to use the sled. When the way
was comparatively easy the woman,
supported by the two men, Newbold
and Maitland, made shift to get along
afoOt When it became too diflcult
for her, Newbold picked her up as he
had done before and assisted by Matt
land. carried her bodily to the next
resting place. At these times Kirkby
looked after the sled.
They had managed to reach the tenn
DOrary hut in the old camp the first
night and rested there. They gath
cred up their sleeping bags and tents
and resumed their journey in the
morning. They were strong men, and
save for old Kirkby. young. 1t was a
desperate endeavor but they carried II
through.
When they hit the open trails the
shedding was easy and they made
great progress. After a week Of ter
rife going, they struck the railroad,
and the next day found them all safe
in Maitland's house in Denver.
To Mr.. Stephen Maitland his daugh-
ter was as one who had risen from
the dead. And indeed, when he first
saw her, she looked like death ITSELF
No one had known how terrible that
Journey had been to the woman. Her
three faithful attendants had surmised
something, but in spite Of all even
they did not realize that in these last
days she had been sustained only by
the most violent effort of her will. She
had no sooner reached the house,
greeted her father, her aunt ard the
children, then she collapsed utterly.
The wonder was, said the physician.
not that she did It then but that she
had not done 1t before. For a short
time It appeared as II her illness might
be serious. but youth, vigOr. a strong
body and q good constitution, q heart
now free from care and apprehension
and q great desire to live and love
and be loved, worked wonders.
RNwhnlH hoH nnHoyod NJ
for private conversation with the wo-
man be loved, which was perhaps Just
as well. He had the task Of readjust-
ing himself to changed conditions; not
only to q different environment, but to
strange and unusual departures from
his long cherished view points.
He could no longer doubt Arm,
Strong's final testimony to the purity
Of his wife, although he had burned
the letters unread, and by the same
token he could no longer cherish the
dream that she had loved him and him
alone. Those words that had pre-
ceded that pistol shot had made 1t
possible for him to take Enid Matt
land as his wife without doing violence
to his sense Of honor or his self-re-
apect Armstrong had made that
much repaEation. And Newbold could
not doubt that the other had known
what would be the result Of his speech
and had chosen his words deliberately;
score that last action to his credit He
was q sensitive man. however; he
realized the brutal and beast-like part
he and Armstrong had both played be-
fore this woman they both loved, how
they had battled Ike savage animals
and how but for a lucky interposition
he would have added murder to his
other disabilities.
He was honest enough to say to him
self that he would have done the same
thing over under the same circum-
stances, but that did not absolVe his
conscience. He did not know how the
woman looked at the transaction or
looked at him, and he had not enjoyed
one moment alone with her. In all
that had transpired since that morn
ing in the hut, the four had naturally
and inevitably remained inseparably
together.
They had buried Armstrong in the
anoyv pahort Maitland aaT{n0 over