Clara Louise Burnham

“ An idea occurred to him.
“I shall never have such another chance,” he thought. In fifteen minutes more he was dressed and stealing like a burglar down the corridor and out the door of the hotel.
The sky was brightening fast, and he started on a jog-trot in the direction of the canyon.
The stillness, the loveliness of that morning,—the only sounds those of Nature undisturbed and uninterrupted! What fine exhilaration was in the air! Had no reward followed that run over the mountain road, Irving Bruce would have remembered it all his days as unique in rare enjoyment ”

“ One doesn’t care to have one’s sweet and cheery conversation treated like the tunefulness of a string of sleigh-bells. Miss Maynard invariably makes me feel the drifting snow when I try to chirk her up.”
“She’ll be a success then,” responded Mrs. Nixon, with conviction; and while her son stared at this comment, she went on: “I am glad of all the civility you have shown her, Robert. It is not natural to me, as you say, to be talkative or—or gushing, and yet I’ve always been perfectly civil to Miss Maynard. ”

“ Why do I call you Rosalie? Because it means you. It is one of the ‘sweets’ that came to me then—”
“Mr. Bruce,” the girl interrupted him, “Betsy does know nothing of it; but if she did, [319] Betsy is something more than clever, she is wise. She probably doesn’t read Emerson, but if she did, it would be her own thought that she would put into his words: ‘Our friendships hurry to short and poor conclusions, because we have made them a texture of wine and dreams, instead of the tough fibre of the human heart.’” The speaker took a firm hold on the sweet voice that threatened to break. ”

“ Pogram’s a clever soul, though some like putty. If she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have spared Rosalie, I s’pose.”
“Oh, it wasn’t for long,” replied Mrs. Bruce. “I thought it only fair that the child should have one season’s course in English, with such a yearning as she had after poetry and all things poetical. Such a doom as it seemed to be to peel Mrs. Pogram’s vegetables [20] and wash her dishes. I can always discern an artist,” added Mrs. Bruce complacently, “even in the most unlikely places; and that girl had a touch of the divine fire. ”

“ Irving had had the forethought to pay his bill the night before, and when he and Betsy stepped into the last stage it had all the familiar appearance of previous days except that no waitress was shrinking in a corner like a violet striving to hide beneath its leaves.
“Here we are,” said Robert cheerfully. “United we stand, divided we fall. We’re all going fishing.”
“Irving, come here.”
Mrs. Bruce made room for him beside her, and the stage started. She was pale, and had made no effort to get the driver’s seat, where Miss Maynard and Robert had climbed at Mrs. Nixon’s suggestion. ”

“ THE BLONDE HEAVER “Isn’t it remarkable,” asked Mrs. Bruce, “that we were just talking about the Inferno?”
She, with her companions, had come down from the hotel into the hissing, steaming tract of the Norris Basin.
Deep rumblings were in their ears. Narrow plank-walks formed a footing amid innumerable tiny boiling springs, while the threatening roar of larger ebullitions and the heavy sulphurous odors of the air gave every indication that here indeed was the gateway to that region where our forefathers believed that the unlucky majority paid the uttermost farthing. ”

“ Bruce’s idea received confirmation by Betsy’s manner and her precipitate departure up the garden-path, and she looked at Hiram Salter blankly. Betsy Foster was the prop of her household. She was the property of the Bruce family. Did this man suppose for one moment that just because they had gone to school together, he could remove her from her useful position? What a selfish, impossible thought! Of course the man wasn’t in love with Betsy. Nobody could be in love with such a severely plain creature; and yet that fancy of the new boat and the new name! ”

“ It has stood the test of ages.”
And now Irving was wasting his time lying awake and watching the stealing moonlight.
“Coffee never affected me before,” he considered impatiently; then he sat up in bed and punched the unoffending pillows into new shapes and flung himself down on them.
He hoped she was not awake too. He lay quite still for a minute, picturing an aureole of golden hair, pillowed in a shabby room, and stood in awe a minute before the innocence of that childlike face in slumber. ”

“ So young a creature to be economical [234] of happiness; but the intensity of the girl’s eyes disturbed her.
“Now you mustn’t get so wrought up over things, Rosalie. Make it a rule to be mejum in everything. I always have, and I find it the best way.”
A low laugh escaped the girl as she met the kind gaze. Had Betsy ever stood in the midst of roaring immensity, an atom in the whirl of colossal, dreadful beauty, and fallen from dire panic into the close embrace of safety, with the beat of a kingly heart upon hers? Poor Betsy! Poor everybody in the wide universe except Rosalie Vincent! ”

“ Rosalie’s color pressed high as she imagined Mrs. Bruce’s amazed scorn that the talents in which she had at least for a time believed, had carried their possessor no higher as yet than to be a waitress—a heaver, according to Miss Hickey—in the Yellowstone.
The girl must at last have dozed; for she shortly experienced a vigorous shaking from her companion.
“Here, here, hustle!” exclaimed Miss Hickey, not unkindly. Rosalie opened her eyes with such bewilderment that her companion laughed.
“Come on, blue eyes. You look like a baby. Get into your duds. We’re off for Norris Basin, worse luck.” ”

“ The girl drew closer to her neighbor’s angular shoulder. The expression in her lovely eyes disconcerted Betsy as she met it. “There isn’t any one else in the world to care. I’ve had lots of time since I left Chicago to think how alone I am, and I’ve been as disappointed in myself as Mrs. Bruce could be because I’m not brave about it. There have been moments at night when I was sorry, Loomis and all, that I ever left Fairport.” ”

“ I just hoped she appreciated his attentions; but do you know I watched them closely, and I never saw her look at him once! She was pleasant and gay all the time,—but I just said to myself, can—it—be possible that that girl is more attracted by our droll Nixie than by that prince? I’ve often heard you say you dreaded Irving’s falling in love; you’ve always been so like brother and sister, it isn’t to be wondered at; but when Mr. Nixon told me what a good angel you’d been to that talented girl, I thought I could see that you had your little plans! ”

“ BETSY’S GIFT The Colonial Hotel that evening looked such a haven of rest to tired wanderers, that as soon as it was settled that they could get rooms Mrs. Nixon and Mrs. Bruce were able to smile on each other again.
The mountain lake lay calm in the waning light, and strings of fish being brought in caused excitement among the men.
“One thing you must do, Irving,” said Mrs. Bruce, looking graciously upon Helen, “is to take Miss Maynard to that place where you stand on shore and catch trout, and then whisk it right over into a boiling spring and cook it before you take it off the hook.” ”

“ Frequently one would be seen sitting up and nibbling the seeds from a long stem of grass, which he held in such a manner that he appeared to be playing a flute. A big marmot here and there lay along a bough or rock, turning his head lazily to view the tourists through his Eden. Boiling springs and boiling rivers, hill, vale, mountain, and waterfall—all these had Rosalie enjoyed, even with the fear that the Bruces would turn around; and now! Think of making one stage of the picturesque journey with no companion but her own thoughts! ”

“ The girl’s eyes shone. “He says that they were very close at one time, and that old friends can never be replaced. It makes me think of what Holmes said:—
“‘There is no friend like the old friend, who has shared our morning days,
No greeting like his welcome, no homage like his praise:
Fame is the scentless sunflower, with gaudy crown of gold;
But friendship is the breathing rose, with sweets in every fold!’”
The girlish voice was like music above the smothered roar of many waters. As Irving [226] listened and looked, he understood the warmth of Mrs. Bruce’s brief enthusiasm. ”

“ On the last evening of the year Rosalie sat before the open fire with Betsy. Captain Salter had gone out on some errand in the village, and Rosalie, on her favorite little stool, leaned her head against Betsy’s knee and watched the leaping flames. How remote, on [395] an evening like this, seemed the great world from this little cottage-by-the-sea!
“One has so much time here, to think, Betsy,” said the girl.
The other gave her one-sided smile. “Well, yes,—holidays, we do,” she rejoined.
“You are always busy,” admitted Rosalie. “How happy you and the captain are!” ”

“ Bruce, “but I believe I’d prefer that to being boiled. Irving, don’t you let go of me. This is the wickedest place I ever saw. Those little sizzling springs are just hissing to catch my feet.”
The party stopped to watch the heavy plop-plop of a mud geyser.
“Now,” said Robert, “while we’re all thinking on our sins and properly humble, is the time to get acquainted. Mrs. Bruce, this is my mother, and my uncle Mr. Derwent, and Miss Maynard; and Mr. Bruce you all know by reputation.”
Betsy had moved to a remote corner of the geyser. ”

“ The middle of the afternoon found her on the way to the pretty inn, set on a slight rise of ground above the river. Mr. Beebe, the proprietor, was a Fairport man, an old friend of Betsy’s, whose provincial ideas had for years been in process of changing and forming by contact with the summer people for whom he catered; and what had once been a barn-like structure known as the Fairport Hotel, now showed as a modern inn, with verandas and a pretense to fashion. ”

“ She saw again her young self, heart-sick with the disappointment of her girlish fancy, leaving this little village for the city, and finding a haven with the bride who became her friend as well as mistress.
“I did, too,” she repeated. “It was my silver weddin’ only last week, when Mr. Irving had his twenty-fourth birthday.”
“Is Irving that old? Bless me! Then,” hopefully, “if he’s twenty-four he don’t need to be tied to your apron-strings. Strikes me you’re as much of a widow as I am a widower. There ain’t many o’ the Bruce family left for you to be married to. ”

“ Betsy bridled. “Well, what’s all this for?” she demanded.
“It’s to show you plain as the nose on your face that if you ever was married to the Bruce family you’re a widder now; just as much as I’m a widower.”
[6]
“No, sir, for better or for worse,” returned Betsy doggedly.
“Get out. They’re dead, Mr. and Mrs. Bruce, both dead; and the widder Bruce nothin’ at all to you.”
“Stepmother to Mr. Irving,” declared Betsy. ”

“ I can’t cope with clever people. If you’re clever, I’m done for.”
[84]
“Oh!” ejaculated Helen softly. “Lambeth!”
“Is that any relative to shibboleth?” effervesced Robert. “Because I can say it. See? Better let me in.”
“Lambeth is a school,” returned Helen, and stole another look at their busy waitress; “a school where I went.”
Irving Bruce had Betsy on his right hand, but Mrs. Bruce absorbed him; and Betsy sat looking before her, idly waiting for her meal. Her roving glance fell suddenly on Rosalie’s blond head as the girl was leaving the dining-room. ”

“ I’ve always thought I was too timid to drive it, but of late I’ve come to feel that I don’t like to be the only woman that hasn’t one.”
“Oh, you are just the person to drive an electric,” said Robert, his eyes twinkling as Mrs. Bruce unconsciously raised herself to a sitting posture among the pillows. “You’ll spin down to the bank every afternoon and bring Brute home.”
“I really do think you’re right, Nixie,” returned his hostess plaintively. ”

“ You would never have given the matter a thought; and even Helen Maynard knows me too slightly to have defended me.”
“Miss Maynard has found a gold-mine in the Yellowstone. Did Mr. Derwent tell you?”
[228]
“No, indeed. What do you mean?”
“She turns out to be an heiress, and only discovered it here.”
“How beautiful!” Rosalie’s eyes looked away pensively. “Any fortunate discovery becomes glorified by being made here. How happy she must be! It is so fine to have time to work at what you love to do!”
“Yes,” answered Irving. “That is the Eldorado for each of us. ”

“ Betsy watched her in fond silence; and Rosalie returned to her side. “I just looked in to hug you and to say I’m glad,” she said. “I’ll come again, soon.”
“What are you going to do to-day?” asked Betsy.
“I’m going canoeing with Mr. Nixon.”
“With Mr. Nixon,” repeated Betsy.
She was sorry they could not speak alone. She saw by the girl’s face there was much she was repressing.
“The people are planning a Yellowstone picnic with Captain Salter,” continued Rosalie. “We’re to sail to some far-away beach and have a clambake. ”

“ Bruce shrugged her shoulders, “the girl is a beggar. She can’t choose.”
The light that suddenly sparkled in Irving’s eyes made Betsy hasten to speak.
“You said when we were talkin’ about it that time, that it was a pity for girls who had those talents to get married. I guess Rosalie feels herself she has some talent.”
“Yes,” returned Mrs. Bruce, busily eating, [174] and unconscious of the storm brewing beside her, “a talent for,” she laughed,—“heaving. She’s just a pretty doll, and it is amazing what fools a pretty face will make of men of all types and ages.” Mrs. Bruce laughed gleefully. ”

“ I’ve certainly had one more lesson in letting well enough alone. It is likely she never would have grumbled with her bread and butter and left Mrs. Pogram, if I had not been the means of putting ideas into her head. I’m obliged to admit that you were right, Betsy, when you talked to me about it a few weeks ago.” Mrs. Bruce gave a little sigh. “I wish I weren’t so warm-hearted and impulsive. Doesn’t it lead one into lots of trouble, Mrs. Nixon?”
Mrs. Nixon was of the opinion that it did; and she still held by the arm a victim of misguided emotion. Irving and Robert had disappeared. ”

“ He’s an awful nice, kind boy.”
“I guess he will be when I get him trained,” returned Hiram equably. “He’s beginnin’ to understand that I’m the cap’n o’ the Betsy.”
“If you knew how disagreeable that sounds, you’d never say it in my presence!”
Hiram lifted the sea-blue eyes, and fixed hers with their gaze.
“That sentence has got more music in it,” he declared slowly, “than any other in the English language. I’ll be good to you, Betsy—as good as a man knows how to be to a woman. You’ve taken care o’ folks for the last twenty years. I want the job o’ takin’ care o’ you the next twenty.” ”

“ Pogram’s drudgery had oftentimes excited an admiration in Betsy which she never put into words.
She fought now with a sense of pathos that Rosalie should be hurrying back and forth under the orders of hungry travelers.
Irving commented at supper upon Betsy’s sociability with the pretty waitress in the stage, and some instinct bade the good woman guard her secret.
“She is a very intelligent girl,” Betsy replied. “It seems it’s quite a common thing for nice poor girls to see the Park in this way.”
“A very good idea, too,” remarked Mrs. Bruce. ”

“ Nixon came over to say good-by. Did you know Mr. Derwent took supper with the cap’n and me one night?”
“Yes. He is greatly taken with Captain Salter.”
“We had a real good time,” said Betsy, “and he praised the supper.”
“There are no suppers as good as yours. Nixie and I had made him hungry telling him about the dinner we had with you that day.”
[380]
“And my boy never broke bread with me once,” said Betsy sadly. “I couldn’t ask him away from Mrs. Bruce.”
“Betsy,” asked Rosalie wistfully, “whatever did happen?”
Betsy shook her head. “Nothin’ you need worry about, child.” ”

“ No—that designing sailor was tired of living alone. He wanted a housekeeper and a cook. How did he dare! Quite a blaze of indignation mounted in the breast of Betsy’s fortunate owner. What a blessed thing that Betsy was [18] the sort of woman who could see into a millstone and could be trusted to flout her deceitful wooer to the end. Mrs. Bruce spoke with gracious playfulness.
“You never told me Captain Salter was a beau of yours, Betsy.” ”

“ Bruce with satisfaction, hastening her steps.
Behind them followed Betsy Foster and Miss Maynard.
“To whom is Henry talking?” asked Mrs. Nixon. “Why,—why, Mrs. Bruce! I never knew him to do anything so strange! It’s that waitress—that waitress that came on with us in the stage.”
“I didn’t notice her,” returned Mrs. Bruce. “I was always sitting in front.”
“She has waited on us at the hotels,” said Mrs. Nixon, and her tone grew colder. “Men are so thoughtless. I liked the girl so much. ”