Free Zane Grey by The Last Trail Page A

still?"
    "I'm a little homesick," Helen replied reluctantly.
    "No? Well, I declare! This is a glorious country; but not for such as
you, dear, who love music and gaiety. I often fear you'll not be happy
here, and then I long for the old home, which reminds me of
your mother."
    "Dearest, forget what I said," cried Helen earnestly. "I'm only a
little blue to-day; perhaps not at all homesick."
    "Indeed, you always seemed happy."
    "Father, I am happy. It's only—only a girl's foolish sentiment."
    "I've got something to tell you, Helen, and it has bothered me since
Colonel Zane spoke of it to-night. Mordaunt is coming to Fort Henry."
    "Mordaunt? Oh, impossible! Who said so? How did you learn?"
    "I fear 'tis true, my dear. Colonel Zane told me he had heard of an
Englishman at Fort Pitt who asked after us. Moreover, the fellow
answers the description of Mordaunt. I am afraid it is he, and come
after you."
    "Suppose he has—who cares? We owe him nothing. He cannot hurt us."
    "But, Helen, he's a desperate man. Aren't you afraid of him?"
    "Not I," cried Helen, laughing in scorn. "He'd better have a care. He
can't run things with a high hand out here on the border. I told him I
would have none of him, and that ended it."
    "I'm much relieved. I didn't want to tell you; but it seemed
necessary. Well, child, good night, I'll go to bed."
    Long after Mr. Sheppard had retired Helen sat thinking. Memories of
the past, and of the unwelcome suitor, Mordaunt, thronged upon her
thick and fast. She could see him now with his pale, handsome face,
and distinguished bearing. She had liked him, as she had other men,
until he involved her father, with himself, in financial ruin, and had
made his attention to her unpleasantly persistent. Then he had
followed the fall of fortune with wild dissipation, and became a
gambler and a drunkard. But he did not desist in his mad wooing. He
became like her shadow, and life grew to be unendurable, until her
father planned to emigrate west, when she hailed the news with joy.
And now Mordaunt had tracked her to her new home. She was sick with
disgust. Then her spirit, always strong, and now freer for this new,
wild life of the frontier, rose within her, and she dismissed all
thoughts of this man and his passion.
    The old life was dead and buried. She was going to be happy here. As
for the present, it was enough to think of the little border village,
now her home; of her girl friends; of the quiet borderman: and, for
the moment, that the twilight was somber and beautiful.
    High up on the wooded bluff rising so gloomily over the village, she
saw among the trees something silver-bright. She watched it rise
slowly from behind the trees, now hidden, now white through rifts in
the foliage, until it soared lovely and grand above the black horizon.
The ebony shadows of night seemed to lift, as might a sable mantle
moved by invisible hands. But dark shadows, safe from the moon-rays,
lay under the trees, and a pale, misty vapor hung below the brow of
the bluff.
    Mysterious as had grown the night before darkness yielded to the moon,
this pale, white light flooding the still valley, was even more soft
and strange. To one of Helen's temperament no thought was needed; to
see was enough. Yet her mind was active. She felt with haunting power
the beauty of all before her; in fancy transporting herself far to
those silver-tipped clouds, and peopling the dells and shady nooks
under the hills with spirits and fairies, maidens and valiant knights.
To her the day was as a far-off dream. The great watch stars grew wan
before the radiant moon; it reigned alone. The immensity of the world
with its glimmering rivers, pensive valleys and deep, gloomy forests
lay revealed under the glory of the clear light.
    Absorbed in this contemplation Helen remained a long time gazing with
dreamy ecstasy at the moonlit valley until a slight chill disturbed
her happy thoughts. She knew she was not alone. Trembling, she stood
up to see, easily recognizable in