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CHAPTER XXIII
It was the 11th of February, warm and bright, in that delightful climate of California. In the handsome residence of Mrs. Morse, on California street, reclining in a large arm-chair, sat Marie Colchis. A book lay upon the floor, where it had fallen from her hand, and she lay among the cushions with a far-away, dreamy expression in her eyes. Nearly five weeks had elapsed since she left the Island of Guadalupe and came with her two friends to San Francisco.
Care and attention and the best of nursing had saved the girl from the fever which first threatened to make her recovery slow and uncertain. She had regained her health, her flesh and beauty; her skin was exceeding fair, but the whiteness was set off by the rich red of her cheeks and lips.
Recovered from death, among friends who loved her, and expecting every moment the arrival of the one of all men whom she had ever loved, whom she adored now, she lay dreaming of the time when she should be clasped in his arms.
Marie had been informed of everything concerning Junius Cobb. She knew of his apparent infatuation with Mollie, and of his subsequent disinclination for the society of either her or Marie Hathaway. Mollie had told her of the time when he had called her by name in such words of love and endearment, and Marie believed that his heart was hers yet. She was informed of his journey to the pole, of his safe arrival there, and knew that he was expected in San Francisco at any moment.
“Oh that the time would soon come!” she had cried in her heart many times. “Will he know me? Will he still love me?” she had asked herself; “and then, if not, I shall die!” she would murmur sadly, while the beautiful eyes would fill with tears.
“They are coming, Marie! They are coming!” screamed Mollie, rushing into the room. “They are at the door!”
Marie started from her chair, gasped, and pressed her hand to her heart. He was at the door! he whom she loved, and from whom she had been separated for over a hundred years!
“Remember, Marie, your promise; you are Leona Bennett;” and with this parting instruction, Mollie shot to the door just in time to be clasped in the arms of Lester Hathaway, who was leading the way for Cobb. Hugh had stopped in the hall, hugging the plump little form of Marie Hathaway.
A moment later Mollie led Cobb toward Marie, who was standing by the window at the side of the room.
“Leona, this is our friend, Mr. Cobb, of whom you have heard us speak. Junius, my cousin, Leona Bennett.”
Mollie smiled slyly, and gave Marie a knowing look.
Cobb bowed low, and then, looking up, hesitated as if lost in admiration of the beautiful face before him. Ere a word could be spoken by either, Lester and Hugh were brought forward and presented.
“You must have thought me rude, Miss Bennett,” said Cobb, a little later, as he and Marie sat near each other, “not to have expressed the pleasure which I could not but feel at meeting one so beautiful as yourself.”
“I, equally, was unable to more than acknowledge the introduction; for you know the others were upon us, and we had no time,” and she smiled charmingly upon him, while her eyes seemed to have a longing, craving expression. “You have had a most remarkable experience in life, Mr. Cobb,” she added, after a pause.
“Yes,” sadly. “And many times I have wished my fate had ordained it otherwise; but now, Miss Bennett, it would be ungallant, and,” with a searching look, “untrue, to say that I do, for I have met you.”
“Ah, you are like all men, ever ready with a compliment.”
“But it seems as if I was drawn to you by some power I cannot express,” he continued, looking deep into her eyes.
“Do I remind you of some old friend, some old love?” she banteringly asked, though it was easy to perceive that she longed for an affirmative reply.
“That is just what puzzles me, Miss Bennett. It seems as if your face was familiar, and yet I could never have met you before.”
“Are you sure?” She looked up with one of those expressions of childhood days when she had clung to him and begged him to come again to her in Duke’s Lane.
His eyes scanned her; his thoughts traveled back many years. “How like Marie Colchis was that expression,” he said to himself; yet he gave no utterance to his thoughts.
“She was dead, dead long years ago!” Then, aloud, he slowly said: “Yes; I am sure.”
“Then, how can you account for the power of attraction which draws you to me?” she persisted.
“I know not its cause,” he smilingly returned, “unless it be that perhaps all men are similarly attracted. I am but mortal, Miss Bennett, and consequently cannot resist the loadstone of so much grace and loveliness.”
Thus they met, and thus they talked. He knew her not, nor did she reveal her identity. She wished to test the man she loved; and why? Ask a woman!
Two weeks passed, and still they all remained in San Francisco; but the next day was to see them on their way to Washington; the President had sent an imperative summons for all to join him at once.
Junius Cobb had seen Marie every one of these days; had walked and driven and been her escort everywhere. In fact, he had been by her side during every moment that propriety would allow. A new life seemed opened to him; he laughed and chatted like the gayest; he was witty and bright, and the old expression of sorrow had vanished from his face.
He seemed to live in her smiles, to be supremely happy in her presence. He was in love; this time he knew it. Did he ever think of little Marie Colchis? Yes, often and often, and the divinity he now worshiped seemed to him as if risen from the soul of her, and that in loving the former he still maintained his allegiance to the latter. Leona, to him, was his old love Marie. He could not explain the semblance, yet he saw that it existed. He loved Leona Bennett; he thought of Marie Colchis.
Sitting by her side that evening, in the small, cozy library, whither he had gently led her, and whither she had gladly, willingly gone, he quietly said, “Miss Bennett, you return to Washington to-morrow?”
Turning her large blue eyes upon him, she asked, “And do you not go, too, Mr. Cobb?”
“It all depends,” he answered, nervously.
“Why, I thought it was all settled. Mollie told me that you were to go. Have you changed your mind, Mr. Cobb?”
“I dislike to return to Washington,” he continued, not heeding her question, “unless I can do so with a lighter heart than I took away with me when I left.”
“You ought to go there with the greatest pleasure. Your name is famous throughout the world,” and she looked proudly upon him; proud of the man she loved.
“But fame is not all that man craves,” he returned.
“What more can man desire than a name great to the world; a name honored, respected and loved?” Her eyes had dropped, while his were fastened upon her with love intense.
“Love.” He whispered the word lowly and sweetly in her ear as he bent over her drooping form.
Raising her eyes, now full of all that deep love of her aching, patient heart, she met his ardent gaze.
“And can you not have that?” she asked, in tones so low as to be almost inaudible.
“Miss Bennett,” he sadly returned, “mine is a peculiar position. Listen but a moment, and let me tell you my history.”
Junius Cobb then narrated his meeting with Marie Colchis; how he had loved her, but as a child; how he had promised to be her husband, and how he had forsaken her to gratify his ambition. He told her how this love of his little Marie had come to him in all its intensity since his return to life, yet he knew that she was lost to him forever. He informed her of his supposed love for Mollie Craft, and of his sudden discovery that his heart could never be given to her. He related the vision he had wherein Marie had been led to him by an angel. And during all this recital his listener had sat, with tears in her eyes, but a holy feeling of adoration for the man who had remembered her with such love. It was only by a supreme effort that she refrained from declaring herself and falling into the arms of this noble man.
“Miss Bennett – Leona,” gently and slowly; “since my eyes have beheld you, I have seen but one form, have known but one name – Marie Colchis. Yours is the face, the voice, the grace and loveliness that would have been hers at your age. It seems that in your form reposes her soul; that through your eyes beams her sweet and loving nature. Never could two beings be more alike.”
As he spoke the words, Marie’s overflowing heart gave vent to its fullness in a deep sob.
“I know, Leona,” proceeded Cobb, as he noticed her agitation, “that you feel sad at the recital of my story; your great heart – her heart – responds in sympathy to the sufferings of others. I feel that the vision of her coming has been realized; that though departed from this earth and among the angels in heaven, she has sent her soul, her form, her mortal being, back again to earth that I might meet my just reward – life or death. Marie Colchis – for by that name are you henceforth in my heart – I love you, I adore you. Is it to be life or death?”
Amid the sobs which came from her heart, she asked: “And will I always be Marie Colchis to you, Junius? Will you always bear me the love you profess for that other?”
“Yes; a thousand times yes,” he cried, as he arose and took her hand in his. “As my life, will I love you; as my life do I now adore you. O Marie, my darling, my own. Will you give me life? Can you love me in return, for her sake?” pleadingly, as he gently turned the beautiful face toward him and looked into her tear-bedimmed eyes.
Her heart was overflowing; the flood-gates of her love, so long closed and barred, were about to break asunder; her soul had passed out into his keeping. With a passionate cry, she threw her arms about him, and wept tears of joy. Gently he drew her closer to him, and kissed her lips; kissed away the tear-drops in her eyes.
“You love me, my own, my darling!” he cried. “Tell me that you do.”
“O Junius; as I love my God!” Again the tears of joy and happiness flowed fast and furious from her eyes.
“And you reproach me not that I see in you my former love?”
“No. No more is my name Leona Bennett. To you, my own, my noble heart, it shall ever be Marie Colchis. By that name alone shall you henceforth know me, love me, and be my husband.” Thus she spoke the truth, yet kept the promise she had made.
CHAPTER XXIV
“Home again, at last,” gleefully exclaimed Mollie, as the double drag brought the whole party from the depot to the executive mansion.
The President and Mrs. Craft met them at the private entrance, and gave to each a cordial welcome. Marie Colchis was received by the old people as a beloved niece, for Mollie had, in a letter written some weeks before to her father, partially explained the situation of Marie, whom she wished to be called Leona Bennett.
Once in the house, the several members, excepting Mollie, went directly to their rooms to change their traveling clothes; but she, taking her father by the hand, asked him and her mother to give her a few moments of their time, as she had something of importance to relate. Once in the library, she knelt at her father’s feet, and related the whole story concerning Marie Colchis. She told of finding the letter in Cobb’s room, and of her journey to Guadalupe Island, and the rescue of the girl; she dwelt upon all the wonderful incidents of the finding of the cavern and its contents; and then she told him of the letter which was found with Marie, and the relations which had existed between Marie and Junius Cobb, years ago; that Junius was ignorant of Marie’s identity, but was in love with her, and had asked her to marry him.
The iron box which was found in the cavern, and which was now in the trunk, was next spoken of. Finally, she admitted to her parents her love for Lester, and his adoration of her, and asked for their consent to their union. “And this is not all, dear papa and mamma,” she said: “Marie Colchester is Marie Hathaway, Lester’s sister; I brought her here to win the love of Junius, but it was not to be, for” – and she hesitated – “for she is engaged to Hugh.”
It was several minutes ere Mr. and Mrs. Craft could grasp the whole situation, the revelations had come so fast and free; but, finally, the old man took his wife’s hand in his, and slowly, but with a smile of pleasure, said: “Mamma, we were young once.”
Mollie accepted the words and expression of his face as evidence that a happy termination would end the hide-and-seek courtship of herself and Lester; she kissed them both, and ran to communicate the good news to her lover.
It was evening of that day. A happy, jolly, bright party was congregated in the private parlor of the executive mansion. In the corner, by the great mirror, sat Junius Cobb and Marie Colchis, his eyes drinking in the beauty of her being, and his thoughts wrapped in a contemplation of her grace and loveliness. On the sofa, across from them, sat Hugh and Marie Hathaway; Lester was alone in a big arm-chair near the window, while Mollie stood in the center of the room under the electric lights, bright, radiant and vivacious.
“Three spooney couples!” she cried. “No; I mean two and a half – and you are the half, Lester,” slyly turning her head toward him. “Six hearts beating as one; all in unison, but none engaged. He is coming, papa is coming; and I advise some young gentlemen whom I could name to step boldly to the front and ask – well, I think I’ll say no more, but I pity you. Papa holds his daughters in an iron fist,” and she clenched her little hand to emphasize her words.
A moment later and the President and his wife entered the room, and all arose to meet them.
“Be seated, my children,” he kindly said. “For the first time in my life I feel that I have three beautiful daughters and three noble sons. I have asked you to meet me here that I might bring complete happiness to three pairs of loving hearts. I know all your secrets, dear children; everything is known to me.”
He paused. An expression of surprise came over the face of Hugh, while anxiety was depicted in Lester’s countenance. Marie Colchis turned her eyes upon the speaker, but said nothing. As for Cobb, he thought it all quite natural, as, no doubt, Marie had told her uncle of his proposal.
“I will not keep you long in suspense. You, Lester,” and he turned toward him. “Love my daughter. You have asked for her hand more than once. I know she returns that love; and as her happiness is next my heart, I will not bring sorrow to her by refusing your request.” He stepped forward, and took the hand of Mollie, whose cheeks were red with blushes, and led her to where Lester stood, having risen from his chair. “Lester, take her; she is yours. Be a good, kind husband to her, is all I ask.”
Lester took the fair girl in his arms, and imprinted the first lawful kiss upon her lips.
“And now,” continued Mr. Craft, “as two hearts are thus made happy, let me seek another pair. Hugh; stand up, my son.”
Hugh arose, gently raising Marie Hathaway from the sofa, and moved toward his father. “Father,” he said, “here is another pair.”
Marie hung her head in confusion, but Hugh was bold and fearless.
“I know all about you two also,” said Mr. Craft, smiling. “I am more than satisfied to receive such a daughter as you, Marie Hathaway.” The girl started as her name was pronounced, and a guilty blush mantled her cheek at the thought of the deception she had practiced upon this good old man. “Unto my son I give you, if it be your wish that he should become your husband.”
He paused. Marie made no reply, save to pass her hand through Hugh’s arm, and nestle closer to his heart.
“Hugh, take her, and bless God for the prize which you have received.” Hugh led the girl away with joy in his heart.
“Junius” – the President spoke the word low, and with more embarrassment than he had used in addressing the others – “I know not how to commence. She who stands by your side is not my niece, but my daughter,” and he took Marie Colchis’ hand in his, and drew her toward him. “She is my daughter; no blood makes the tie, but that of love has given her to me. She stands before you alone in this life. No father or mother, brother or sister, or relative has she in the wide world.” The tears were now falling from Marie’s eyes, and she clung closer to her adopted father. Hugh and Lester looked on in silence but wonder. “She has come,” he continued, “like a radiant star in our universe, and from a remote period of time. She lived years ago – a hundred or more. Do not start, Junius,” as the other moved a step, and stood gazing on Marie’s face with a look of partial recognition. “Like you, she lived, and died, and lived again. The same methods which were used to prolong your life were used to give life again to this fair girl. The hand that assisted at your interment prepared the casket wherein his daughter has lain for over a century. She is – ”
The wild excitement of Cobb’s soul, paralyzed for a moment by the words of the other, now broke forth in a hoarse, pathetic cry – “Marie Colchis!” and he rushed forward, and almost crushed the fair form in his strong arms. Regardless of all present, he kissed her face, her lips – kissed her with all the depth and passion of a man receiving back from death the being divine of his heart.
When Cobb’s feelings had calmed sufficiently for him to realize the situation, the President led him and Marie to their chairs. “Take her, Junius; God has ordained it!” he said, with a choking sensation in his throat. Without letting too long a pause ensue, he drew from his pocket a paper, unfolded it, and said: “Listen, my children, to the last words of that girl’s father, Jean Colchis.”
In a low tone he read:
“Guadalupe Island, December 15, 1897.
“Junius: To you I leave these words! Dead though thou art, yet a voice tells me that you will live again. In this chamber, with the inanimate body of my darling daughter lying beside me, I write my last words to mortal man.
“From the day you left us, and for years after, the heart of Marie has lain like a stone in her bosom; no feeling but that of love for you has gained entrance there.
“Wealth poured in upon me, and I endeavored by its aid to surround her with life, luxury and change of scene, hoping thus to turn her thoughts into other channels than of you. It was in vain! Sad and sorrowful she passed the days and years in hope of your return.
“I did not tell her that you had entered into a state of inanimation from which you would not awake until years had passed. I could not crush her heart! The days came and went, and no change took place. I felt that she was dying of a broken heart. As the conviction forced itself upon me, I prayed to God for help. Long and long I debated the situation. The knowledge was apparent that she would die ere many days had passed unless means were promptly taken to remove the sorrow in her heart on account of your prolonged absence. What should I do? I had assisted in your preparations for a future existence; I knew of the methods you had taken to continue life in your body.
“‘Junius can never return to my daughter,’ I cried, in the agony of my soul. ‘Why not send that daughter to him?’ If you lived, she might again live, through the means I might employ. If you did not survive the ordeal, then it were better that she, also, should die. I argued with myself; I won. I sought for a spot where no human being would find the resting place of my beloved daughter until the time should arrive for her deliverance. I selected the island of Guadalupe, far from the busy world. I prepared the chambers and made them beautiful.
“My daughter came, and for nearly a year we lived in quiet but sad community. But, alas! it was of no avail! I saw her dying before my eyes. I resolved to subject her to a living death, in the hope that she might live again and be happy.
“I have prepared her body, even as you had told me yours was to be prepared. I inclose her fair form in a golden coffin, as a fitting receptacle for one so true and noble. With immortelles for her death, should she die, I surround the casket; with orange blossoms at her head, in the hope of future life and of her marriage to you, I lay her to rest.
“In an iron box at the foot of her coffin you will find my last testament, and the dowry I bequeath my daughter. I have prepared everything for this moment. That you might know this place, I put the letter into the copper cylinder; I bored through the walls of your tomb, and pushed in the case; and when I heard it fall on the floor of your sepulchre, I sealed up the hole. I knew if you lived again you would rescue your Marie. I felt, that if you died, it was better that she died also.
“The time has come! I lay this letter upon the snowy bosom of her who loved you as never woman loved a man. O God! can mortal know the anguish that seizes my heart as I am about to seal the lid which closes her sweet face in a living tomb!
“When these words are read by thee, O my daughter, if ever thine eyes shall brighten again in life, my bones will lie bare and naked at the foot of thy coffin. Good-bye, my darling daughter. I close the lid! I seal thy fate!
“Jean Colchis.”
Without allowing the sadness of the moment to weigh upon their feelings, the President stepped to the door, and soon returned, followed by a servant bearing the little iron box which Dr. Town had carried on his saddle from Guadulupe Island, and which Mollie had surrendered to her father.
Soon it had been opened, and its contents exposed to view. A bundle of papers was on top, and these the President took out and gave to Cobb.
He took them, and opened the first paper: it was the will of Jean Colchis, giving to Junius Cobb, on the day of his marriage to Marie Colchis, all money due from the government of the United States on the contract of sale of the invention of the sympathetic telegraph. The second paper examined was the original contract for the transfer of this invention to the government in consideration of $5,000,000 paid down and a perpetuity of one-half of one per cent, on the gross earnings derived from its use.
“Why!” exclaimed the President, as Cobb read the contract, “you will be one of the richest men in the country. As near as I remember, there are over a hundred millions of dollars lying unclaimed in the Treasury on this contract.”
The third paper found was the formula for making the needles used in the invention, sympathetic.
“Ah!” cried Cobb. “This is most important! Not but that the wealth given Marie and me is most acceptable; but now,” and he held up the paper, “now the world will again know and make use of the secret of sympathizing the needles.”
“And you forget another thing, Junius,” broke in Hugh. “You are five millions of dollars richer by that paper, as that is the reward offered by the government for the discovery of the lost secret.”
The last paper in the box was then read:
“That the wealth which I possess may descend to my daughter unimpaired by time and change, I have converted the $5,000,000 which the government paid me for my invention into the sack of stones underneath this paper. J. C.”
Cobb reached his hand into the box, and withdrew a silken bag. Opening it, he poured the contents upon the table.
All started with exclamations of astonishment at the sight; and well they might. The center of the table seemed ablaze with a million sparkling, dancing rays of light. Five million dollar’s worth of precious stones lay before them – the dowry of Marie Colchis.
“Junius,” said the President, laying his hand upon the young man’s shoulder, “wealth has rolled in upon you by millions, but above all the wealth you have received is the fair prize you have won, your future wife,” and he kissed the blushing face of Marie. “One more gift I can add to the many you have received,” and he drew from his pocket a folded paper bearing the great seal of the Navy Department upon it. “Your commission as Admiral of the Aërial Navy of the United States,” and he handed the paper to Junius Cobb. “Your discovery of meteorlene has revolutionized warfare, and you soon will command a powerful fleet of aërial war ships.”
Cobb bowed low as he accepted the paper, and expressed his gratitude to the President for this additional proof of his generosity.
“I was not far wrong,” exclaimed Hugh, grasping his hand, “when I saluted you as Admiral, on board of the Orion.”
“No, Hugh,” returned Cobb; “and I wish I had not been, when I returned it to you as my Commodore.”
“And you were not, Junius,” laughed the President, as he drew another paper from his pocket. “Your commission as Commodore in the Aërial Navy, Hugh,” handing him the paper.
“And what does my hubby get?” cried Mollie, pouting her pretty lips.
“A colonelcy in the army for distinguished service during the war,” and the President smiled as he took a third paper from his pocket and gave it to Lester.
“And now,” said Cobb, after a pause, “as wealth more than I can use has been heaped upon me, I wish to add my mite to the happiness of the moment. Hugh,” and he took up the third paper from the bundle on the table, “here is the secret of the sympathetic telegraph; it is worth five million dollars. Take it, and divide it between yourself and Lester, as a wedding gift from me.”
Then Marie stepped forward, and filled her two hands with glittering stones from the pile on the table. “Take these, my dear sisters,” she said, as she poured them into the laps of the two astonished girls; “take these as a bridal gift from Marie Colchis.”
