The Award of Justice; Or, Told in the Rockies: A Pen Picture of the WestBarbour, A. Maynard (Anna Maynard)
General
The Award of Justice; Or, Told in the Rockies: A Pen Picture of the West
Barbour, A. Maynard (Anna Maynard)
Mountain life -- Fiction; Rocky Mountains -- Fiction
Minty, terror-stricken by the results which she believed had followed
her report to Haight, and by his fearful fate, in a fit of hysteria,
confessed the share she had taken in the plot, and was summarily
dismissed.
After the coming of Mr. Cameron with the surgeons and nurse, Lyle and
Leslie had withdrawn from the sick-room, and busied themselves in
caring for Mrs. Maverick, and in superintendence of the necessary
work; Van Dorn, whose astonishment at the revelations of the last two
days was beyond expression, keeping them informed of the condition of
the sufferer. Lyle was pale with excitement, but calmly and bravely
took her place as head of the strangely assorted household, her heart
throbbing wildly as she anticipated the meeting with Mr. Cameron.
Within the sick-room the soft, gray twilight had deepened into
darkness. At one side of the bed sat the nurse, his fingers upon the
pulse of the patient, while he listened attentively to his breathing,
now becoming irregular, and broken by low moans and occasional
mutterings. On the other side sat Mr. Cameron, his head bowed upon his
hands, his mind going back to the years of Guy's childhood and youth.
How vividly he recalled many little incidents, seemingly trivial when
they occurred, but carefully treasured among the most precious
memories in the long, sad years that followed! With the memory of his
son, his heart's pride and joy, came also that of the beautiful
daughter, with her golden hair and starry eyes, the light of their
home in those happy days.
Mr. Cameron seemed lost in thought, but in reality, while thus
reviewing the past, his mind was keenly conscious of the present. In
one corner sat the faithful Mike, while at his feet lay the equally
faithful Rex, who could be neither coaxed nor driven from the room,
but remained quietly watching his master's face, an almost human love
and sorrow looking out of his eyes, as he answered the occasional
moans with a low, piteous whine.
In another corner Everard talked in low tones with the two physicians
who were to remain that night, Mr. Cameron taking cognizance, in the
midst of his own sorrowful thoughts, of every word.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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