THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.

Gilbert, sleepless, counted yet the slowly Dragging hours—three more days, and then The promised one; pondered o’er the words of That strange man on Palomar,—words so oft Repeated: “If she be here, then you may Speak with her.” “If she be here!” Their meaning— His intention—dawned upon him. “She will Not be there!” In frantic haste he rose and Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks; His adolescent blood in angry throbs, His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric. On the slope he saw the tethered burros, Well-filled packs and camping equipage near By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’ He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric Placing bars before the door, and Zola By his side. At sight of him came bounding Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head Uncovered—bowed, as one in reverential Attitude before a shrine—addressed her: “We have been acquainted long, if not by Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter, He may tell you of his promise—explain The breaking—doubting not his motive, I Believe him kind and true.” “Calls you daughter!” Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor Swept across his kindly face. The time had Come when he must speak—must tell the secret Of his life—her life. Then he recited All that he remembered,—Zola’s unknown Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that She be taken; how he had suffered with The dread of making known to her that he Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion Setting all aside, she sprang to him and Clinging, cried: “He is my own dear father!” Her dazzling beauty now intensified. As one enchanted, Gilbert looked upon The scene; such filial love revealed a depth Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those Who called him son—what they had done for him— And of the promise he had made to them. Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride Of name and family might they not spurn This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed His love for her was satisfied; fortune, Name and family were all as naught to Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and Winning, give to her his name. “No, no,” she Answered for the father, “until this cloud Is lifted—mystery solved—my name is Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he Had promised would he go back to the states And seek a bride, solve the mystery and Return triumphant, claim her—his Zola— As his bride. Would take the ship now in The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory Yielded meagerly of information Needed. He well remembered all his life Up to the day that he left Lola at Her father’s home, and from the day she died, The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank. Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this Day your life shall be a pattern for my Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed Him aside and whispered: “The father, if He be found, pray name her not to him.” From The mountain top she watched him out of sight; Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s Daughter wept. When their only son went forth To seek a bride—to keep his vow—there was Great rejoicing at the Gilbert rancho.