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 The Musgrove ranch.A tale of southern Ca 
 
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By the Same Author : 
 
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 "NOT MY WAY"; or, Good out of Evil. 
 
 I2I110. Cloth $1 CO 
 
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 DOROTHY. A Tale. i2mo. Cloth i oo 
 
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Chapter IX. 
 
The Musgrove Ranch 
 
 A TALE OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 
 
 BY 
 
 T. M. BROWNE, 
 
 Author of "Not My Way," "Dorothy," Etc. 
 
 New York : 
 
 THOMAS WHITTAKER, 
 
 2 & 3 Bible House. 
 
 1888. 
 
Copyright, i8S8, by 
 THOMAS WHITTAKER. 
 
 io 
 
 6 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 Jenkins & McCowan, 
 224-228 Centre Street, N. Y. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The day had been intensely warm, with little 
 of the ocean-breeze to moderate the heat ; but 
 now the sun had set behind the great shoulder 
 of the mountain to the west of the Hermosa 
 settlement, and in a moment, as it seemed, the 
 temperature fell and a cool air sprang up, wav- 
 ing the foliage of the eucalyptus grove which 
 formed a semicircle rouad the upper portion of 
 the Musgrove Ranch. 
 
 It was the principal ranch of the valley, with 
 the oldest and best cared for orange groves, 
 the largest olives, the most umbrageous fig and 
 walnut trees. The long, low house looked a 
 very inviting place, with its broad piazzas fes- 
 tooned with a variety of exquisite creeping 
 plants, and deeply shaded to the west by an 
 enormous live-oak, whose vicinity had been 
 especially considered when the house was built. 
 5 
 
6 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 The tree had flourished there generations 
 before an American had set foot in the valley ; 
 when the Musgrove Ranch had been a sheep- 
 walk, and Mexican shepherds had camped 
 many and many a time under the dark, wide- 
 spreading branches. Now, in its old age, it had 
 a lordly carpet of blue grass spread about its 
 feet, with groups of snow-white lilies and vivid 
 geraniums brightening its solemn shade. There 
 were garden seats, too, looking very modern 
 under the gnarled old branches, and here the 
 Musgrove family were seated this evening, as 
 was their wont. 
 
 The family consisted of Mrs. Musgrove, the 
 widowed mother, two handsome, sunburned 
 men, her sons, and a slender, dark-eyed daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " It is too bad, Bruce, that you could not 
 find time to drive over to the station," the 
 mother said, looking for the hundredth time 
 along the road leading southward to the distant 
 railway station ; " the poor girl will feel disap- 
 pointed to have none of her cousins come to 
 meet her. It seems to me that one or the other 
 of you might have gone." 
 
 " Quite impossible, mother ; at least for me. 
 I cannot get a day's work out of the men un- 
 less I am with them, and you know we are irri- 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 7 
 
 gating the upper olive-patch. Hugh, there, 
 might have gone, if he had chosen, as well as 
 Sandy." 
 
 Hugh shrugged his broad shoulders, and de- 
 clared that he felt too bashful to face his New 
 York cousin alone, and that Nettie had been 
 too lazy to go with him. 
 
 " You know, mother, I could not go in the 
 scorching sun," exclaimed the young girl in an 
 injured tone. " Hugh is always ready to blame 
 me for his shortcomings." 
 
 Hugh laughed, and threw an acorn, which 
 had just fallen from the branch above him, into 
 his sister's hair. 
 
 " I wonder what she will be like ! " he said, 
 ignoring Nettie's attempt to retaliate. " If she 
 is like uncle Percy with his overbearing way«, 
 I shall have nothing to do with her." 
 
 "Hush, Hugh," said Mrs. Musgrove ; "you 
 have no respect for anything." 
 
 " Isn't that the phaeton .' " said Nettie, point- 
 ing to a small dark object in the straight road, 
 which dwindled to a thread in the distance as 
 it ran across the "unimproved "land southward. 
 
 " The phaeton or a Chinese mule-wagon," said 
 Hugh solemnly as he pretended to scrutinize 
 it. But Mrs. Musgrove, looking anxiously tow- 
 ards it, declared that she would walk as far as 
 
8 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 the gates to meet the carriage, and Nettie, 
 slipping her arm into her mother's, set out with 
 her, while the two young men, with real or 
 affected indifference, slowly rose and followed. 
 
 They were two stalwart, handsome fellows. 
 Indeed, the Musgrove brothers were regarded 
 by all the inhabitants of the MzW&y ■a.'s, par excel- 
 lence the first in all respects of the young men 
 of that locality. At the first glance you would 
 have thought them remarkably like each other, 
 but, looking more narrowly, a marked difference 
 was discernible. Bruce, the elder, was in every 
 way the stronger of the two. There was more 
 power in the handsome face as well as in the 
 firmly knit frame, but there was a lack of the 
 careless grace and the genial attraction of the 
 younger brother. 
 
 Walking leisurely along, stopping every now 
 and again to note the condition of some partic- 
 ular tree, or the need of attending to some 
 newly set out sapling, or to turn a faucet which 
 let a copious stream of water refresh some 
 thirsty plant, the young men reached the gates 
 in the fence which marked the southern boun- 
 dary of the ranch. 
 
 A group of magnificent pepper-trees stood 
 near the gates, and on a seat beneath them 
 they found their mother and sister. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. g 
 
 The phaeton was now a clearly defined ob- 
 ject, and a feeling of expectancy made the four 
 persons silent for the next ten minutes. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove was the one most moved by 
 the thought of meeting her niece. It was not 
 merely the remembrance of having held her in 
 her arms as a little child which quickened her 
 pulses and brought tears into her eyes, but it 
 was the sudden, vivid image of the old Eastern 
 homestead, not seen for so many years, and of 
 the beloved ones of her youth and early woman- 
 hood, so many of whom had passed away from 
 earth without a farewell. The young men both 
 felt a greater interest than they would have 
 confessed, and Nettie's brightening eyes and 
 flushed cheeks showed that her cousin's advent 
 was certainly not a matter of indifference. 
 
 At last the wheels sounded distinctly on the 
 sun-baked road, and in a few moments more 
 the carriage stopped. Bruce opened wide the 
 gates, while Hugh hastened to help the traveler 
 to alight. 
 
 A slender girl in a traveling dress of severe 
 simplicity, and with a paleface much concealed 
 by a gray veil — such was the first sight of Ada 
 Selwyn which greeted the gaze of the Musgrove 
 family. 
 
 She seemed to turn instinctively to the 
 
lO THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 mother, and in an instant Mrs. Musgrove held 
 her very fondly in her arms, all the yearning 
 tenderness for the old, far-off home expressing 
 itself in the kiss which the older woman be- 
 stowed on her young relative. 
 
 " These are your cousins, my dear," she said, 
 still half embracing her. " Bruce, my eldest son, 
 Hugh, and Nettie." 
 
 " I am very glad to see you all," said the girl, 
 looking from one to another, and giving her 
 hand to each. 
 
 A pair of clear gray eyes seemed to take note 
 of the three faces, and the voice was quiet and 
 self-possessed. 
 
 Then, amid explanations and excuses from 
 Mrs. Musgrove, the party turned towards the 
 house, the carriage having been sent on with 
 Miss Selwyn's luggage. 
 
 The arrival of an entirely new element in a 
 household where there has been little or no 
 change for years, is always epoch-making. I 
 mean, of course, when the person newly added 
 has a distinct individuality ; and that such was 
 the case with Ada Selwyn, each member of the 
 Musgrove family was from the first more or 
 less conscious. 
 
 When the evening was over, none of the fam- 
 ily except Mrs. Musgrove had quite decided as 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. \ \ 
 
 to whether the stranger cousin had impressed 
 them favorably or otherwise : Bruce observing 
 her from the standpoint of his unquestioned 
 headship and superiority ; Hugh, from that of 
 the admired and coveted cavalier of all the 
 young ladies of his acquaintance; Nettie, with 
 somewhat of the feeling which makes many 
 girls look at others as their possible rivals. 
 
 True, Nettie was without doubt a very pretty 
 girl, and in that respect there could be no ques- 
 tion of rivalry; but there was a certain air of 
 quiet, highbred savoir vivre in Ada Selwyn, 
 the natural outcome of a youth spent in the 
 centres of civilization and in a refined and in- 
 tellectual companionship, which made itself 
 felt and gave Nettie a sensation of uneasiness. 
 
 Ada was too tired from her long, fatiguing 
 journey to do much more than answer her 
 aunt's questions about old friends and places. 
 
 She was very thankful to have arrived in 
 safety, very glad to see the aunt and cousins, 
 her nearest of kin now, of whom she had 
 heard and thought since she could remember 
 anything, and yet naturally somewhat reserved, 
 being practically among strangers. 
 
 It was still quite early when she succumbed 
 to her weariness and asked to be excused. 
 
 "To-morrow, dear auntie," she said, "you 
 
12 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 win find me I hope not quite so stupid, and bet- 
 ter able to tell you all you want to know. No, 
 please, you must not come with me. I know 
 the way already." 
 
 And with a pleasant smile and general " good 
 night " she vanished. 
 
 It had long since grown to be the blessed 
 habit of Ada Selwyn's life to pour out her heart 
 in prayer to the Almighty and All Merciful 
 One. Shortcomings and sorrows and aspira- 
 tions ; intercessions for beloved ones and for 
 all the sinning and the sad — all was brought 
 before Him who can be touched with our infirm- 
 ities. And to-night, kneeling by the snow- 
 white, inviting bed in the pretty room which 
 her aunt's affectionate care had prepared for 
 her, meekly and simply, as a little child, she 
 offered up her prayer and praise, then, with a 
 grateful sense of His ever-present love, she laid 
 her head upon the pillow and fell into a deep 
 delicious slumber. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Farm hands turning out for their day's work, 
 a heavy team passing at a little distance, and 
 the general stir which ushers in the day on a 
 large ranch awoke Ada on the following morn- 
 ing, rested and refreshed. She lay for a few 
 moments gathering up the threads of her last 
 evening's experience, and realizing that she had 
 entered upon a new chapter in her life. 
 
 The bustle had subsided, and in the compar- 
 ative stillness that followed a mocking-bird on 
 a tree close by burst forth into a very ecstasy 
 of song. The sun had not yet risen, but the 
 wonderful light of dawn lay on everything, 
 when Ada leaned from her window and looked 
 out upon her new world. She saw how match- 
 less in their beauty were the mountains which, 
 even as she looked, passed from solemn shadow 
 into a pearly loveliness, and then, as the sun 
 emerged from the Eastern hills, flushed into 
 tints of amethyst and rose. She could not look 
 away until the first glory had faded out and 
 day had fairly asserted itself ; then her eyes 
 
14 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 wandered over the wide valley with its scatter- 
 ed ranches, some with goodly groves of fruit 
 trees, others but just struggling into existence, 
 and again great stretches of barren land, seamed 
 here and there by the stony river-beds, now 
 completely dry, but along whose banks some 
 scattered sycamores or willows attested to the 
 presence of water through a portion of the year. 
 It was a relief to turn from that part of the 
 prospect to the flourishing ranch immediately 
 surrounding her. Everything, even to an expe- 
 rienced eye, evinced care and prosperity, and 
 the spirit of order was as plainly visible as that 
 a sense of the beautiful had had a large part in 
 the planning and planting of the Musgrove 
 Ranch. 
 
 The sight of Nettie in the simplest and fresh- 
 est of morning gowns, with a large light basket 
 of grain for her chickens, gave the finishing 
 touch to the attractive scene, and Ada hastened 
 to join her cousm, who greeted her affectionately. 
 
 " Do let me go w ith you to the chickens," 
 said Ada ; " you do not know how I shall enjoy 
 everything about your country life, which has 
 the added charm here of perfect novelty.'' 
 
 Nettie laughed. 
 
 " I hope you will never get half as tired of it 
 as I often am," she said. " I have wished 
 
THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. \^ 
 
 thousands of times that I could change places 
 with you. The very name of New York has 
 often made me envy you. Only think of my 
 never having even seen San Francisco since I 
 was a child !" 
 
 Her cousin looked at her reflectively. " How 
 strange it is that people are so seldom satisfied 
 with their lot ! I, on the other hand, would 
 sometimes willingly have changed places with 
 you — or, rather, I often wished to be here with 
 you all. From the descriptions I had read, 
 Southern California seemed a kind of Eldorado, 
 and I have always had a great desire to travel, 
 which has seldom been gratified. Then there 
 was the great attraction of seeing you all face 
 to face." 
 
 " Well, I am sure we were all delighted when 
 we heard you were really coming, " said Net- 
 tie, graciously. " And new that }ou are here, I 
 hope you won't be dreadfully disappointed with 
 us all." She looked so pretty and so pleasant 
 that Ada involuntarily answered by a kiss, 
 which Nettie accepted as a tribute to her at- 
 tractions, and which made her feel still more 
 cordially disposed to her cousin. 
 
 Together they fed the chickens and gathered 
 some flowers ; the beauty and profusion of the 
 latter drew many exclamations of delight from 
 
1 6 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 Ada. Then turning towards the house-, they met 
 Bruce coming in quest of them. 
 
 " I am glad to see that Cousin Ada can get 
 up early," he said, holding out a strong, brown 
 hand, which formed an almost amusing contrast 
 in size and color to hers. " Life would not be 
 worth living here without the morning hours. 
 What do you think of our ranch V he asked, 
 with a slight gesture of his hand which seemed 
 to denote conscious ownership. " How does it 
 look to Eastern eyes .■'" 
 
 " I have been studying it from my window," 
 she replied, " and I cannot tell you how much 
 I admire it. It must be the result of so much 
 energy and patience, and it shows such a sense 
 of fitness and beauty." 
 
 Bruce felt himself color to the roots of his 
 hair with gratification. Ada had spoken with 
 such conviction, and the praise of his ranch 
 was almost as sweet to Bruce as the praise of a 
 child is to its mother. Ambition was almost a 
 passion in this young man, and the circum- 
 stances of his life seemed to have denied it any 
 other channel. To be owner of the most ex- 
 tensive and successful ranch of the Hermosa 
 Valley had been his main object in life, since 
 his father's death had left him, a mere stripling, 
 head of his family. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 17 
 
 " You must not praise Bruce too much," said 
 Nettie, mischievously; "it does not agree with 
 him. He might come, in time, to believe him- 
 self Emperor of California, or some such thing. 
 We are all dreadfully afraid of him as it is." 
 
 "It was not Bruce, but the ranch which I was 
 praising," laughed Ada. " Are they supposed 
 to be one and the same .' " 
 
 " Yes, you will soon find that out ; I have 
 given up thinking of them separately." 
 
 Nettie did not often venture to tease her 
 elder brother, of whom she was quite right in 
 saying that his family stood somewhat in awe, 
 but she felt just now that Ada's presence was a 
 safeguard. He did not condescend to reply, 
 but, addressing Ada, proposed that she should 
 take a drive after breakfast. " I have kept my- 
 self disengaged this morning, thinking that you 
 might like a drive round the place, that is if 
 you are rested; " and Ada gladly acquiesced. 
 
 It was the prettiest breakfast-table, Ada 
 thought, that she had ever seen. The snowy 
 linen and Mrs. Musgrove's beloved old family 
 china were set off by the most delicious and 
 fragrant fruit and flowers, not to speak of the 
 abundant and excellently prepared substantials 
 ofithe meal. 
 
 But there was one thing which jarred strange- 
 
I 8 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 ly upon the new member of the household. 
 She had never, as far back as she could remem- 
 ber, sat down at a family board at which no 
 blessing had been asked from the Giver of all 
 good. It was evident, however, that such was 
 not the custom here. Ada stood hesitating for 
 a moment, and Mrs. Musgrove, misunderstand- 
 ing her questioning look, pointed to a seat 
 beside her. 
 
 " I am going to have my new daughter at my 
 right hand," she said affectionately, " and Net- 
 tie at my left." 
 
 Ada bent her head and sent up silently the 
 brief prayer which she had been taught as a 
 child. 
 
 " I thought of taking the double-seated car- 
 riage and all going together," said Mrs. Mus- 
 grove, when Ada mentioned the intended drive, 
 " but Bruce's horse, Aleppo, is a splendid crea- 
 ture, and you would enjoy a ride behind him 
 more — -that is, my dear, if you are not easily 
 frightened. Bruce tells me he has no ugly tricks, 
 but I confess that I have not the nerve to drive 
 with him." 
 
 " The fact is, mother is only happy when she 
 is driving in her old buggy, with a horse that 
 has been past work these ten years," said Hugh, 
 in good-natured mockery. " I only hope she 
 
THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 19 
 
 Won't want to treat you very often to her own 
 special comfort — three miles an hour at his 
 best — with Ichabod ! " 
 
 " Only think, my dear, Hugh insists on call- 
 ing my poor old Billy Ichabod, which means, I 
 believe, that his glory has departed. Well, any 
 how, he is a great comfort to me ! " 
 Ada could not help laughing too. 
 "Well, Auntie, I shall look forward to many 
 a cosy chat with you, in company with Billy, 
 and I am very fond of old horses, so shall not 
 speak disrespectfully of the poor fellow." 
 
 " I hope you won't despise Aleppo on account 
 of his youth," said Bruce. 
 
 " No, indeed; but I must warn you that I am 
 not such a strong-minded female as to be above 
 fear." 
 
 " There is no occasion for any. Come and 
 look at him ; I see Sandy has the buggy ready 
 for us." 
 
 Aleppo was certainly a magnificent creature, 
 unsurpassed in the country for beauty of form 
 and fleetness, and, though nervous and high- 
 strung, as a thoroughbred is wont to be, yet 
 quite under the control of his cool-headed and 
 strong-handed master. 
 
 Ada was charmed with him. She patted his 
 dark, glossy neck with the smallest and whitest 
 
20 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 hand which the Musgrove Ranch had ever seen, 
 and looked at him so affectionately and admir- 
 ingly, that he stooped his stately head towards 
 her, as if i-n recognition of her advances. 
 
 Ada will never forget her first drive in Cali- 
 fornia. The morning was perfect. It was still 
 so early that the heavy foliage of the trees was 
 dripping with dew which had gathered on them 
 through the night. The roads through the 
 ranch were kept constantly watered, so that 
 the dust, the great drawback to summer driv- 
 ing in Southern California, was kept completely 
 under. Aleppo sniffed the morning breeze, as 
 though enjoying it to the full, and almost flew, 
 as it seemed to Ada, along the firm, smooth 
 ways between ranks of eucalyptus, willows, and 
 exquisite pepper-trees, which in places almost 
 met overhead. On cither hand extended groves 
 of oranges, lemons, and almost every variety 
 of fruit — everything in a perfect state of order 
 and cultivation. Then, at the end of the long, 
 green vistas, the mountains in their morning 
 radiance were everywhere visible. The whole 
 thing was so new and so beautiful, the perfume 
 of the flowers, groups and beds of which seemed 
 scattered everywhere, was so delightful, the 
 glimpse of deep blue sk)-, and the shafts of 
 golden sunlight so dazzling, that the city-bred, 
 
THE MUSGROVK RaKCII. 21 
 
 Eastern girl who had, as it were, hitherto, 
 worshiped nature afar off, felt absolutely 
 charmed. 
 
 Bruce Musgrove in his strong manhood, with 
 his serious, clean-cut, handsome face, and the 
 brown shapely hand upon the reins, made part 
 of the enjoyment. 
 
 They did not speak much, but Bruce felt in- 
 stinctively how greatly she enjoyed it ; and for 
 him too the drive possessed a pleasure hitherto 
 not experienced. He drove his cousin around 
 to where his laborers were irrigating the fruit 
 groves, and, in another place, were clearing an 
 addition recently made to the ranch, and briefly 
 and clearly explained everything she wished to 
 understand. 
 
 Then, when they had made the entire cir- 
 cuit of the ranch, he turned Aleppo's head tow- 
 ards the mountains, and they drove over the 
 dry, arid-looking plains, which gradually sloped 
 upwards to the " foot-hills," or low spurs of the 
 Sierras. 
 
 " We have a caiion yonder," he said, point- 
 ing to what looked like a black shadow on the 
 mountain-side. " I must take you to see it some 
 other time. To-day you shall just enjoy the 
 view over the valley." 
 
 When they had reached the foot-hills even 
 
2 2 THE MCSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 Aleppo seemed disposed to rest for awhile, for 
 he had scarcely slackened his great speed up 
 the long incline. Bruce drove into the deep 
 shade of a group of live-oaks and turned the 
 horse's head southward. 
 
 " O, Bruce, how beautiful !" exclaimed Ada. 
 " I am glad we did not once look back in driv- 
 ing up. You can scarcely imagine what this is 
 to me." 
 
 " I think I can," he answered, with the half 
 smile which she had already noticed. 
 
 The homeward drive seemed best of all, for 
 Aleppo fairly outdid himself, as if to impress 
 his magnificent qualities on the new member of 
 the family. Bruce helped Ada to alight, then, 
 springing into the buggy again, went to direct 
 his men at their work. Hugh in his cool work- 
 ing costume was pruning trees, Nettie resting 
 with a novel in a hammock. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Life at the Musgrove Ranch speedily grew 
 to have a fascination for Ada Selwyn. Novelty 
 has a great charm to young minds, and the 
 girl's nature was so sound and wholesome that 
 the simple pleasures which her new home 
 afforded were enjoyed with a zest which could 
 not but be gratifying to her hosts. That first 
 delightful drive with Bruce was followed by 
 others, some with him alone, behind his fleet 
 and fiery Aleppo, some in the family carriage, 
 to one or another point of special attraction, or 
 to visit friends whose homes lay, for the most 
 part, at a considerable distance from the Mus- 
 grove Ranch. 
 
 These were generally very pleasant people 
 who had brought with them, from their Eastern 
 homes, the habits and amenities of social life, 
 and who succeeded in getting a good deal of 
 enjoyment out of a life which might otherwise 
 have grown monotonous and narrowing. The 
 young people had a tennis club, riding parties, 
 and — best of all, Ada thought — occasional boat- 
 
24 THE MUS GROVE RANCH. 
 
 ing excursions, for the Pacific was not many 
 miles distant. 
 
 The nearest town was a small and, it must 
 be confessed, a very unattractive one, named 
 Caliente. A few days after Ada arrived they 
 drove through it on their way to a friend's 
 ranch, and Ada was disagreeably impressed by 
 the untidy dwellings, the uncared for streets, 
 and the enormous proportion of saloons which 
 flaunted their bold fronts at every corner. 
 
 As they drove rapidly through the place, 
 Bruce, glancing at his cousin's face, saw a ques- 
 tion there, before it had framed itself upon her 
 lips. 
 
 " Where do you go to church ?" she said. " I 
 have thought each day of asking you, and yet 
 have never done so." 
 
 She looked at Bruce as she spoke, and 
 then something she could not decipher in his 
 face made her look in turn at each of the 
 others. 
 
 Just for a moment there was a curious, embar- 
 rassed silence. Bruce's lips wore a little sneer- 
 ing smile, Hugh laughed carelessly, Nettie 
 became suddenly interested in buttoning her 
 gloves, and Mrs. Musgrove colored quite pain- 
 fully, as she answered : 
 
 " Well, really, my dear, I cannot say that of 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 25 
 
 late years we have gone to church at all. You 
 see — " 
 
 " Not gone to church at all !" exclaimed Ada ; 
 and the unfeigned astonishment, not to say 
 consternation, quite altered the character of 
 her face. "I beg your pardon, dear auntie," 
 she went on hastily ; " I did not realize that you 
 might be out of reach of the services of the 
 Church. Of course I ought to have been pre- 
 pared for it, but yet I can hardly understand 
 how — in all this valley — " 
 
 " We must not let you remain under a false 
 impression," said Bruce, and there was a harsh 
 ring in his voice which was new to Ada; " Mo- 
 ther did not say there was no church to go to ; 
 she only said we did not go to it. I think you 
 can see it from here. Do you see that place 
 that looks like a barn, with a cross on the end, 
 there, next to that tobacco shop ?" and he 
 pointed with his whip up a street at right an- 
 gles from the one down which they were driv- 
 ing ; "that, if I mistake not, is the Episcopal 
 church of Caliente." 
 
 There was a touch of mockery i-n his manner 
 as he checked his horses in order to let Ada 
 have a better view. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, so quietly that one 
 must have known her very well to have detect- 
 
26 THE MUSGROVE RAXCII. 
 
 ed any pain in the tone ; " and have you a 
 clergyman living here ?" 
 
 " Of that I am not so sure. There is another 
 little town, Graceville, over yonder, about six 
 miles, and I think I have heard that Mr. Ash- 
 leigh divides himself between the two places." 
 " Then you do not know when services are 
 held here .? " 
 " I do not." 
 
 " Would you mind stopping for a moment to 
 find out for me '>. " 
 
 Bruce Musgrove could frown, and when he 
 did so his face grew quite cold and harsh. Ada 
 caught the look. 
 
 " I am sorry to trouble you," she said quietly, 
 "but I must really know about the services." 
 
 " Get down, Hugh, and find out if you can," 
 said Bruce; and Hugh sprang out with a quiz- 
 zical expression, and disappeared in the near- 
 est store, while his brother first touched the 
 horses with the whip and then checked them 
 so suddenly as to rouse their indignation and 
 make them very restive. Their master mut- 
 tered a little angrily, otherwise the party sat 
 quite silent until Hugh reappeared with a card 
 in his fingers, which he presented with a low 
 bow to his cousin. It contained a short, printed 
 notice of the services of the Mission Chapel of 
 
THE MUSGROVE RAAXH. 2 J 
 
 St. Stephen, Caliente. Missionary, the Rev. 
 Eustace Ashleigh. Below were the words, 
 " Lo, I am with you always." 
 
 " Thank you so much, Hugh," said Ada. She 
 read the card, and then carefully placed it in 
 her purse. It was only too evident that the 
 matter was of no interest to the others. 
 
 Thus, in a point of the most vital interest to 
 Ada, a discord had sprung up which marred 
 the harmony of her new surroundings. True, 
 she had had already, more than once, a sort of 
 premonition that in her religious life she would 
 not find the sympathy she had anticipated 
 from her relatives, but she had not allowed her- 
 self to entertain the thought. There is often a 
 peculiar reticence, especially in the young, in 
 religious matters — a shamefacedness which pre- 
 vents people from speaking to one another of 
 what should be, and often is, of the deepest im- 
 portance to themselves, and Ada had hoped> 
 upon a longer acquaintance, to find that her 
 cousins were in the main in accord with her. 
 It was no small shock to one of her training 
 and principles to find that there really existed 
 a vast difference between them. 
 
 Had she been less self-possessed, it would 
 have been almost impossible to refrain from 
 some expression of regret or disappointment, 
 
28 THE MUSGROVF. RANCH. 
 
 but the face she turned towards her aunt 
 was just a trifle paler and less smiUng, that 
 was all. She saw, however, an expression 
 of annoyance or distress in Mrs. Musgrove's 
 kind eyes, which made her, by an effort, dispel 
 her own. This was not the time or place to 
 speak of what lay nearest to her heart. 
 
 " Auntie," she said, laying her little deli- 
 cately gloved hand upon her arm, " when are 
 you and I to have a quiet jaunt together with 
 poor old Billy .'' These fiery steeds of Bruce's 
 are not good for your nerves, I see." 
 
 " Have you seen Ichabod .'' " asked Hugh, be- 
 fore his mother could reply. " Do you think 
 you will enjoy him .■' " 
 
 " Yes, I have visited the stables, and I think 
 him a very respectful looking, nice old horse," 
 said Ada, " and it is a sign of your lack of ven- 
 eration, Hugh, that you should ridicule him." 
 
 A little good-natured banter soon put the 
 shadow to flight which had come between Ada 
 and her relatives. Bryce was the last to join in 
 the renewed conversation. 
 
 As they drove out of the town, Ada noticed 
 a small, rude house standing apart in a well- 
 kept garden. A group of eucalyptus - frees 
 shaded it from the western sun, and a veranda 
 to the east was thickly covered with beautiful 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCB. 
 
 29 
 
 climbing plants. Near a window opening upon 
 it a young woman was sitting, or, rather, reclin- 
 ing, in a large easy-chair, and the head and 
 shoulders of a man, stooping over a book, could 
 be seen in the background. Ada was the only 
 one of the party who noticed these objects, but 
 the slight glimpse she had, as they passed rap- 
 idly, settled the question in her mind as to 
 where the Rev. Eustace Ashleigh resided. She 
 said nothing, but took good note of the locality, 
 determining within herself that she would see 
 it soon again and make acquaintance with the 
 persons residing there. 
 
 The ranch to which Ada was introduced that 
 day gave her another aspect of California. The 
 house was large and handsome, and stood in a 
 green island, as it were, surrounded, far as the 
 eye could reach, by a sea of ripening grain. 
 The land was gently undulating, and as the 
 breeze which came direct from the ocean, not 
 many miles distant, swept over the swaying, 
 heavily eared wheat, the effect was beautiful in 
 the extreme. To Ada the sight was strangely 
 exhilarating. As they reached the top of a 
 long incline from which the full view of that 
 vast harvest broke upon her, the cloudless sky 
 bending over it, an emblem of the boundless 
 love of the great Father, the girl involuntarily 
 
^O THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 clasped her hands in a thrill of pure enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 " It is a fine sight," said Bruce appreciatively. 
 
 " I like it best when the grain is cut," said 
 Nettie ; " we have some splendid riding parties 
 over these slopes." 
 
 The immediate surroundings of the house 
 were beautiful, full of verdure and flowers; and 
 the warm welcome which the party received 
 made a charming termination to the drive. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, which was ob- 
 served at the Musgrove Ranch as a day of rest 
 and ease. Bruce Musgrove, as a practical man, 
 was fully alive to the fact that one day in seven 
 was absolutely needful in which to unbend from 
 the daily strain of labor and care. His farm 
 laborers were required to do nothing that was 
 not absolutely needful, and such duties were to 
 be taken in turn. With the exception of the 
 cook and Mrs. Musgrove herself, the household 
 indulged in a dolce far niente. Bruce, whose 
 active mind and habits incapacitated him from 
 enjoying such " sweet idleness " to the full, was 
 the first up, and usually took a solit.Try stroll 
 about his property before the late breakfast, at 
 which Nettie and Hugh appeared. The Sun- 
 day meals were especially excellent. Mrs. 
 Musgrove had come by degrees to feel that she 
 was performing a sort of religious duty in de- 
 voting peculiar thought and care to the prep- 
 aration of these Sunday repasts. The after- 
 noon was mostly devoted to a drive or a visit. 
 
32 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 the evenings by Nettie and Hugh to music, by 
 Bruce to reading, chiefly scientific. 
 
 On this particular Sunday, Ada Selwyn's first 
 at the ranch, Bruce was up even earlier than 
 usual, but he was not the first to rise in the 
 household. Ada had risen soon after the 
 morning sunlight had crept through her cur- 
 tains, and, not long afterwards, tapped gently 
 at her aunt's door. 
 
 " Why, Ada, dear child, what is the matter.^" 
 said Mrs. Musgrove, who was meditating a 
 short nap before rising. 
 
 " Nothing is the matter, Auntie," said the 
 young girl, stooping to kiss her — and then, 
 seating herself on the edge of the bed, she 
 smoo"thed the soft, gray hair off the elder wo- 
 man's forehead — " only I have come to ask a 
 favor of you this morning.'' 
 
 " Anything in the world that I can do for 
 you." 
 
 '• I want you to lend me Billy and your own 
 buggy, to drive to Caliente, to service." 
 
 The worried look that Ada had seen in her 
 aunt's eyes the day before came back. 
 
 " My dear — really — of course you can have 
 Billy — but it scarcely seems right that you 
 should drive alone — and Bil])- is exceedingly 
 slow. Now, if Bruce — " 
 
THE MVSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 33 
 
 " Don't trouble about Bruce, auntie, or about 
 me ! Billy will take me safely, and I am sure 
 Hugh gives him a worse character than he de- 
 serves. I shall start early, so as to be sure of 
 being in time." 
 
 " But you cannot go without your breakfast, 
 child—" 
 
 "With your permission, I am going to the 
 pantry, where I shall find all the breakfast I 
 need." 
 
 " But are there any of the men about, to har- 
 ness Billy for you .' Really, Ada, I cannot quite 
 approve — " 
 
 "O yes, you can, you dear, good auntie, and 
 some time — soon — who knows .'' — you will drive 
 with me to church." 
 
 "Ah, well, Ada; the time was when I felt 
 just as you do, but the circumstances of my life 
 have been such — but — there — I do not mean 
 that. I cannot really excuse myself." 
 
 The color had risen slowly in her face while 
 speaking, and Ada, who at the first moment 
 of their meeting loved her gentle-natured 
 aunt very dearly, laid her soft cheek beside 
 hers. 
 
 " Dear Auntie, we will speak of it another 
 time. I love you so well that you will not mind 
 my speaking of what is in my heart." 
 
34 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove's eyes filled with tears, and 
 she stroked Ada's hand tenderly. 
 
 " And now I am going to hunt up Sandy, or 
 some one, and if I don't find them I shall try 
 my hand at harnessing Billy myself." 
 
 She smiled gaily, kissed her aunt good-bye, 
 and was gone. 
 
 Sandy was a grim-looking old Scotchman, 
 who had been in the Musgrove family before 
 Bruce was born; cross-grained enough at 
 times, but true as steel. Sandy was a Scotch 
 Presbyterian, and traveled once a month full 
 twenty miles to attend service at the nearest 
 Presbyterian church. He had a deep-seated 
 prejudice against the " Prelatists," as he would 
 have called the Episcopalians, and, therefore, 
 though a strict Sabbatarian himself, looked 
 upon the lax observance of the day in the 
 family which he had served so long, as scarcely 
 less objectionable than their attending their 
 own worship. Sandy was gently whistling an 
 ancient psalm-tune to himself as he entered 
 the stable-yard, when he was almost surprised 
 out of himself by the siglit of Ada Selwyn. He 
 stopped his whistling and took off his weather- 
 stained old cap as she c.ime up to him, looking 
 so fresh and fair in her sweet dignity. 
 
 " Good morning, Snndy." 
 
THE MVSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 55 
 
 "Good morning, ma'am." 
 
 " I want you, if you please, to harness Billy 
 to Mrs. Musgrove's buggy for me. I am going 
 to drive to Caliente." 
 
 " By yourself, ma'am .'' " 
 
 "Yes, Sandy; I am quite a good driver." 
 
 A slow smile rose to Sandy's lips. 
 
 " You had need to be, ma'am, if you are going 
 to drive Billy. Hadn't I better put in Charlie, 
 Miss Nettie's horse .'' He is a good traveler — 
 or, maybe. Master Bruce — " 
 
 " No, thank you, Sandy, I would rather have 
 Billy — I can take my time." 
 
 So Sandy, revolving the matter much in his 
 own mind, harnessed Billy, and having taken 
 care to supply Ada with a good whip, and held 
 the horse, for form's sake, while she stepped into 
 the somewhat time-worn vehicle, stood aside to 
 witness the departure. 
 
 As Ada gathered up the reins, she chanced to 
 see Bruce sauntering along the drive towards 
 the gates, where she would have to pass him. 
 The sneering smile with which he had pointed 
 out the church at Caliente recurred to her v/ith 
 a pain which surprised herself, and she shrank 
 from exposing herself to such another. There 
 was no help for it, however, so she touched Billy 
 with the whip in such a manner as to make him 
 
2,6 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 aware that another than his indulgent mistress 
 was driving him at this unwonted hour; and the 
 indignation which he doubtless felt resulted in 
 his setting out at a pace which filled Sandy with 
 surprise. 
 
 Bruce, sauntering on, his head bent in thought, 
 heard the sound of horses' feet and of wheels be- 
 hind him, and had scarcely time to feel surprised 
 when Billy passed him at a rapid trot, and Ada 
 Selwyn, with an unwonted flush upon her cheeks, 
 nodded and sm.iled at him as he stepped aside. 
 '' Haven't I a fast horse ? " she called out, good- 
 humoredly, as she went by. 
 
 Bruce stood looking after her with a curious 
 mixture of expression ; annoyance speedily got 
 the upper hand. 
 
 "Absurd! "he muttered to himself, as he 
 turned upon his heel; "these self-righteous 
 people are very clever in devices for rebuking 
 the sinners round them, but, Miss Ada, you will 
 find that I am not disposed to put up with this 
 sort of thing." 
 
 " How cross you look, Bruce," said Nettie at 
 breakfast. "I thought Ada was making you 
 quite good-humored. Is it because she is late 
 this morning f " 
 
 ' On the contrary, she was early," replied 
 Bruce, coldly. I had the pleasure of seeing 
 
THE MUSGKOVE RANCH. 37 
 
 her drive off in state in mother's buggy with 
 Ichabod ; I presume on her way to her devo- 
 tions at Caliente. Do you know anything 
 about it, mother ? " 
 
 Poor Mrs. Musgrove looked uneasy. She 
 stood in awe of her strong-willed, energetic son, 
 and especially dreaded his irony. 
 
 It had been so much easier to give way to him 
 than to assert her authority, even in his child- 
 hood, that by degrees she had lost it altogether, 
 and their relative positions seemed sometimes 
 reversed. 
 
 " Yes, Ada came to me this morning," she 
 replied; " I advised her not to take Billy, but I 
 could not refuse him, as she really wished to go." 
 
 " The whole thing is ridiculous," said Bruce, 
 sharply. " For my part, I object to any of our 
 family making themselves conspicuously ab- 
 surd." 
 
 "Well," said Hugh, whose lighter and easier 
 disposition seldom quite sympathized with his 
 brother, and whose good-natured gallantry was 
 somewhat shocked at Bruce's harshness of man- 
 ner — "well, I must say, Bruce, that I don't see 
 why you should make a disagreeable fuss over 
 it. I wish Ada had spoken to me last evening. 
 I should have strained a point to get up early 
 and drive her over myself." 
 
38 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " And attended service, I presume," said Bruce, 
 ill-naturedly. 
 
 " Well, for that matter, I have not taken a vcw 
 never to go to church, that I know of." 
 
 " That may be, but if you had any self-respect 
 you would not be likely to go to a church whose 
 minister had insulted your brother." 
 
 " You make too much of that, Bruce," said 
 Mrs. Musgrove wondering at her own courage. 
 " I cannot think that Mr. Ashleigh intended to 
 insult you; and, after all, people don't always 
 attend church for the clergyman's sake." 
 
 Bruce's only reply was an impatient frown, 
 and the meal would have been an unusually 
 uncomfortable one, had not Nettie, who had an 
 object in restoring her brother's good-hunior» 
 gone out of her way to do so. 
 
 " I wish you would drix'e me over to the Crof- 
 tons this afternoon, Bruce," she said meekly, 
 as she helped him to some dish which was sup- 
 posed to be his favorite one. " I almost prom- 
 ised Louise that you would." And after some 
 demur Bruce consented. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Once beyond the precincts of the ranch, Ada 
 found that Billy soon subsided into the jog-trot 
 which was his ordinary gait. The white, dusty 
 road stretched away over the arid upland, so dry 
 and parched after the long, rainless summer. 
 The morning was not very warm, for some 
 misty clouds hung like fleeces overhead, and 
 subdued the fervent rays of the sun. 
 
 The Musgrove Ranch was the last on that 
 side of the settlement, and there was not another 
 upon the road to Caliente, until within a short 
 distance of that place. It certainly was a lonely 
 road, and Ada felt a light nervous thrill pass 
 over her as she looked over the five or six miles 
 before her. Billy gjive her a sense of helpless- 
 ness. Just as a little feeling of discouragement 
 came upon her, from among the dead, dried 
 mustard bordering the road, a bird's song of 
 peculiar sweetness and clearness struck upon 
 her ear. It was the sweetest and simplest of 
 California singers, the field-lark, whose few 
 tender notes, be they repeated never so often, 
 
 39 
 
40 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH: 
 
 cannot lose their charm. There was something 
 so home-Hke and cheering in the sound that 
 Ada drove on with a lighter heart. "I don't 
 want to whip you, poor old Billy," she said, 
 cheerfully, "but you must try to do your best 
 this morning," and she drew the whip lightly 
 over his sleek and well-fed back. Either the 
 gentle remonstrance or the reminder exer- 
 cised a salutary effect, and the old horse started 
 out again at a respectable trot, which he kept 
 up with sundry intermissions until the first 
 houses of Caliente came in sight. There was 
 still a long, though gradual, ascent before the 
 little town was reached, and Ada's patience 
 was well tested before at last she found herself 
 in the streets of Caliente. 
 
 There was no appearance of its being Sun- 
 day. Many of the shops were open, and men 
 were lounging round or passing in and out of 
 the " saloons " as Ada drove along. Some 
 looked at her curiously, with the quick percep- 
 tion that she was a stranger which people in 
 small communities generally possess. 
 
 It was a trial, to a delicately reared and sensi- 
 tive girl, to feel herself gazed at and commented 
 upon by these idlers, many of whom, even at 
 this early hour, were under the influence of 
 liquor. It was the first time in her life that 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 41 
 
 attending the services of the Church had been 
 connected with the sHghtest difficulty or self- 
 sacrifice, and for that reason they assumed the 
 more serious proportions. 
 
 "Yet, what a little thing to do for Him!" 
 she murmured to herself, remembering what 
 the early Christians had done — taking their 
 lives in their hands, rather than forsake the 
 assembling of themselves together. 
 
 So she drove on until, at the intersection of 
 the streets where they had stopped the day 
 before, she saw the barn-like little building, 
 with the cross at the end, which Bruce had 
 pointed out to her as the Episcopal church at 
 Caliente. 
 
 On approaching it, she found a rail for fast- 
 ening horses, and seeing a small boy sitting 
 on the door-steps, she confided Billy to his 
 care. 
 
 It was with a strange emotion that Ada 
 crossed the threshold of the church. She had 
 never worshiped in any save a city church, or, 
 at least, one of dignified proportions and acces- 
 sories. For years past she had attended one 
 of the most beautiful and imposing churches of 
 New York. Three weeks before, she had been 
 one of a throng of worshipers in that stately 
 building, and had joined her voice with those 
 
42 
 
 THE MUSGROI'E RAXCII. 
 
 which blended in glorious harmony of prayer 
 and praise. She had then knelt for the last 
 time before the sanctuary which faithful hearts 
 and hands had rendered as worthy as earthly 
 worship can be of the most sacred rites. 
 
 What she saw before her now was a small, 
 absolutely plain, but decent building; the walls 
 were not plastered, but the wood had been 
 stained a dark rich tint, and the narrow lancet 
 windows were filled with an opaque, greenish 
 glass, which let in a subdued light, giving a 
 solemn character to the building. The chancel 
 was not recessed, but well raised above the 
 body of the church. There were hangings of a 
 rich crimson color, and an altar-cloth of pure 
 white, on which was worked the emblem of our 
 salvation; and two plain vases, filled with exqui- 
 site roses, stood on either side a metal altar- 
 cross upon the table. The seats were made of 
 ordinary redwood, unvarnished — so unlike the 
 magnificent structures in which she had been 
 wont to worship, and yet so absolutely alike 
 in the feeling v/hich it engendered, was this 
 small house of God. 
 
 When Ada entered, the church was empty ; 
 with a feeling of profound thankfulness, a thrill 
 of recognition, she knelt down and prayed. 
 V/hen she had risen from her knees, and had had 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 43 
 
 time to take a closer survey, she perceived how 
 bare in its simpHcity was the building, while at 
 the same time no essentials were wanting — a 
 small font, carved out of oak wood, an organ in 
 a very primitive case, a prayer-desk and lectern 
 of the plainest pattern. There was something 
 in it all that appealed strongly to the young 
 stranger. Her heart went out to the little 
 church which was so churchly and so poor. A 
 very feeble bell began to sound after awhile, 
 and then a clergyman and a lady entered the 
 church. 
 
 He was a man rather past middle life, with 
 a fine, care-worn face ; she was apparently 
 considerably younger, and very fair and frail- 
 looking. They walked up the aisle together, 
 and turned towards the organ, which he opened 
 for his companion. 
 
 " I am afraid it will be too much for you to- 
 day," he said, gently. The low, tender tone 
 came distinctly t^) Ada's ear: they evidently 
 thought themselves alone. 
 
 " No, I am feeling rather better," she said, 
 "and it would be such a pity to have no music." 
 
 Ada moved, and, looking up, they saw her. 
 She arose as the clergyman approached her, 
 and introduced herself. He looked surprised 
 and interested. 
 
44 
 
 THE MUSGKOVE RAXCH. 
 
 "You are staying at the Musgrove Ranch ?" 
 he said, very kindly; " I am all the morehappy 
 to welcome you to our little church. My name 
 is Ashleigh. I should like to introduce you to 
 my wife before service." 
 
 Seeing the lady quite near, she was even 
 more frail and fair than Ada had supposed. 
 Her eyes were large and blue, and far too brill- 
 iant, and the delicate cheek had a feverish 
 flush upon it. The girl's heart ached as she 
 saw her, with a sudden memory of a beloved 
 lost friend. 
 
 " Will you let me play for you to-day .'" she 
 said, after a few words had passed between 
 them. " I heard Mr. Ashleigh say }'ou were 
 not well, and I should like to be of some use, 
 if I may." 
 
 Mrs. Ashleigh looked at her with such sweet 
 gratitude. 
 
 " How good and kind )'ou are ! I cannot 
 refuse, and my husband will feel so grateful. 
 He is worried to think of my having to play 
 always." 
 
 So they went to the organ, and Ada, with a 
 few touches, showed that church-music was to 
 her almost as familiar as breathing. She glanced 
 rapidly over the music which had been select- 
 ed, and praised the tone of the little organ. 
 
THE MUSGROVF. RAAXH. 
 
 45 
 
 Then people began to drop in, until a small 
 congregation had g'athered, consisting chiefly 
 of women. Ada looked for some of the Mus- 
 grove friends whom she had already met, but 
 it was not until service had begun that one or 
 two members of some of these families came in. 
 Sitting where she did, she could not but notice 
 the congregation — could not but see, with a 
 feeling of chill and disappointment, how few 
 joined heartily in the service, and hear how 
 meagre were the responses. A few young girls 
 composed the choir, and in singing the simple 
 chants, were entirely alone. Ada made the 
 most of the organ. The hymns were bright, 
 and should have been familiar, and something 
 like congregational singing should have been 
 the result. 
 
 The sermon was not long. The preacher was 
 intensely in earnest: fearless in his denuncia- 
 tion of the terrible indifference to religion, 
 which he called the plague-spot of the land ; 
 tender and loving in his appeals to his hearers 
 to show in their own lives and conduct an ex- 
 ample which must eventually leaven the mass 
 of irreligion and deadness to spiritual things 
 around them; strong and distinct in doctrine, 
 a firm adherence to which, he said, was the one 
 
46 THE MUSGROVE KAXC/f. 
 
 safeguard against the laxity that, of necessity, 
 must lead to utter unbelief. 
 
 " Remember," he said, " that we must either 
 be influenced by or influence our surroundings. 
 Either we make them better, or they make us 
 worse. So surely as you hear me to-day, you 
 will yourselves lapse into that life of practical 
 unbelief, or the land in which you live will be 
 lifted to a higher level by your presence in it." 
 
 From that short sermon Ada learned enough 
 of the religious conditions of her new home to 
 make her put up a voiceless prayer for grace 
 and strength to be faithful — faithful to the 
 beautiful training of her youth — faithful to her 
 Christian vows — faithful in life and in death to 
 Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Service was over, but Ada remained to have 
 a little further talk with her new friends, for she 
 felt instinctively that such they were. They, 
 on the other hand, had experienced a greater 
 satisfaction in seeing her than she could have 
 dreamed of. She could not have known that 
 her sweet, pure face, her gracious helpfulness, 
 her reverent demeanor, her clear, cultured voice 
 which had responded with such distinctness in 
 the service, had given the clerg3man and his 
 wife the greatest pleasure which they had 
 known since Providence had led them to take 
 up their abode at Caliente. 
 
 " My husband will drive you through the 
 town, at least," said Mrs. Ashleigh, as the cler- 
 gyman helped Ada into her carriage, and, in 
 spite of her protest, laughingly insisted on tak- 
 ing his seat beside her. 
 
 " I am sure you will not deny my wife the 
 satisfaction of knowing that I have piloted you 
 past the saloons," he said, "and it will be 
 nothing to me to walk back." 
 47 
 
48 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " But Mrs. Ashleigh will have to walk home 
 alone! " 
 
 " No, she will wait for me here," he said, as 
 he touched Billy with the whip, authoritatively. 
 So Ada had to submit with a good grace, and 
 waved her hand in farewell to Mrs. Ashleigh. 
 
 It was a comfort, there was no denying it, 
 not to have to return alone through the streets 
 of Caliente, for the idlers round the saloons 
 had increased in numbers since morning. 
 
 " You are shocked, are you not," said Mr. 
 Ashley, " at seeing the way in which Sunday 
 is observed here ? and well you may be. The 
 need is great of faithful, patient workers, of 
 strong and loving hearts to witness for our 
 Lord, in this new and, in many ways, wonder- 
 ful country." 
 
 " Yes," the young girl answered, with a sigh, 
 as she thought of the sneering indifference of 
 her cousins; " I am shocked and disappointed, 
 but, Mr. Ashleigh, I want to do what I can to 
 help forward the work for Christ and His 
 Church. You must tell me what I can do, and 
 I shall feel very grateful to you." 
 
 " My dear Miss Selwyn, I could wish for no 
 stronger proof of your sincerity than the fact 
 of your having attended our service this morn- 
 ing, though a visitc)r at the i\Iusgrove Ranch. I 
 
THE MUSGRCVE RANCH. 
 
 49 
 
 am, unhappily, too well aware of the position 
 which your cousins occupy towards the Church. 
 You may not yourself be fully acquainted with 
 it, but I can vouch for it that you did not meet 
 with much encouragement to come to Caliente 
 to-day ? " 
 
 Mr. Ashley said this with a patient, good- 
 humored smile. 
 
 " No," said Ada, and she could not smile 
 in return, " I did not, but there was certainly 
 not sufficient opposition to make my coming 
 the smallest merit on my part." 
 
 The clergyman looked at the grave young 
 face with increasing interest. " I think I had 
 better tell you," he said, " that I was so unfor- 
 tunate as to incur the special disfavor of Mr. 
 Bruce Musgrove. My zeal on one occasion 
 perhaps outstripped my discretion, or, rather, 
 knowing the family antecedents, I took for 
 granted that I should find in the Musgroves 
 some of the support I sorely needed. Ihad an 
 interview with your cousin, in which he showed 
 an amount of indifference that startled me out 
 of my propriety, and I told the young gentle- 
 man, perhaps in too unvarnished a manner, 
 what I thought of his attitude towards Chris- 
 tianity, and his responsibility as one of the 
 wealthiest and largest land-owners in the set- 
 
5° 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 tlement. The result was that he lost his tem- 
 per, and expressed, not very pnlitely, his desire 
 that I should not in the future consider it my 
 duty to include the Musgrove Ranch in my 
 pastoral visits. Of course, none of the family 
 has ever entered my little church, and, of 
 course, their example has done mach to weak- 
 en my influence in the valle}'. He stopped, and 
 sighed involuntarily. 
 
 " I am so grieved," said Ada, simply, " and 
 it is all such a miserable surprise to me." 
 
 " I can see plainly the position in which you 
 are placed," said Mr. Ashleigh; "I can see, too, 
 how the fact of your loyalty to the Church will 
 be added to the account against myself; but we 
 must both remember that personal considera- 
 tions ought not to weigh for a moment against 
 higher motives. You and I have both a work 
 to do for the Master. The way of kindness and 
 gentleness is Lest; you will adhere to that, I 
 am sure, and who knows how much you may 
 accomplish ! " 
 
 They had driven quite beyond the little town, 
 and Mr. Ashleigh took leave of Ada, express- 
 ing the hope which he strongly felt that she 
 might be able to come to Caliente again soon. 
 
 Billy, revolving in his mind the comforts of 
 home, traveled far better than might have 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 51 
 
 been expected, but Ada had ample leisure to 
 reflect on her conversation with the clergyman, 
 and on the unexpected circumstances which 
 had arisen to mar the happiness of her life at 
 the Musgrove Ranch. 
 
 The luncheon hour was past when she reach- 
 ed home. The house had a somewhat deserted 
 look, Bruce having fulfilled his promise to 
 take Nettie to the Croftons, and Hugh ridden 
 with a friend to the Canon. Mrs. Musgrove 
 was lying down with a headache, the result of 
 the little worry which Bruce had occasioned 
 her. 
 
 Ada drove round to the stables and then 
 walked to the house ; she was tired, and felt it 
 rather a relief not to have to face her cousins, 
 Bruce especially. 
 
 It did feel a little lonely through the after- 
 noon. Mrs. Musgrove was asleep, and the 
 young people did not return till near night-fall. 
 There was a deep stillness everywhere ; the 
 farm-laborers were all away, and none of the 
 accustomed busy life on the ranch was visible. 
 
 Ada sat for a long time under the great " live- 
 oak," many thoughts crowding in upon her. 
 For the first time in her life she recognized the 
 fact that she might be called upon to suffer 
 something for her Christian principles, but the 
 
52 THE MCSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 thought was not disheartening. A voice came 
 to her in the stillness, as it has come to many 
 another: "But if ye suffer for righteousness 
 sake, happy are ye." 
 
 The sunset was beautiful beyond description ; 
 the lights and shadows on the mountains were 
 wonderful in their varying loveliness. Ada 
 watched them until the rosy tints had faded 
 out and given place to a chill, gray hue which 
 reminded her of death ; then in the darkening 
 sky stars came out here and there. The wind 
 freshened until it blew coldly. As she turned 
 to go into the house, she came on Bruce stand- 
 ing on the veranda ; he had returned with 
 Nettie a little while since. 
 
 Ada held out her hand to him. 
 
 " I am glad you have come back, Bruce," she 
 said, frankly and sweetly : " I was beginning 
 to feel a little forsaken. Where have you been 
 all day .?" 
 
 He had intended treating her distantly and 
 coldly, to make her realize that she had dis- 
 pleased him, but it was hardly possible to do so 
 in the face of so much gentleness. He con- 
 tented himself, for the present, with preserving 
 an absolute silence with regard to her drive to 
 Caliente. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "A PICNIC in the Caiion ! "exclaimed Nettie, 
 as she glanced over a letter which Hugh had 
 just thrown into the hammock where she was 
 reclining. 
 
 Ada and Bruce were having a game of chess 
 on the veranda near by. Chess was Bruce's 
 favorite recreation, if, indeed, what was entered 
 into so seriously could be called such. 
 
 " Do you hear, Hugh ? The Croftons, the 
 Watkinses, the Hamingtons, and ourselves, on 
 Thursday. We shall have to ride, for no car- 
 riage can pass along the road to the upper falls. 
 Mammie," and she turned coaxingly towards her 
 mother, " you will get Katie to bake us some 
 of her best chicken-pies, will you not.' A pic- 
 nic in the Canon is just what I seem to want !" 
 
 Ada looked up and laughed. 
 
 " You happy girl," she said, " to get just what 
 you want." 
 
 " Don't mind her, Ada," said Bruce, severely ; 
 "do you see the position of your bishops .'' " 
 
 "Well, I declare, Bruce !" pouted Nellie; "you 
 53 
 
54 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 are the most uncomfortable creature that I 
 know. Wait," she added, mischievously; see if 
 I don't tell Louise Crofton how you treated her 
 invitation !" 
 
 " Don't interrupt our game, if you please," he 
 replied without lookintj up, but Ada noticed 
 that he colored and frowned a little. Women 
 are quick to notice such trifles. 
 
 Bruce had only that day made the discovery 
 that Ada was a good chess player ; so good, in 
 fact, that it took all his skill to continue a game 
 which was begun, on his part, with a little con- 
 temptuous carelessness of his opponent. He 
 had never before played with a lady, and had 
 rashly concluded that they were generally poor 
 players. 
 
 Ada, seeing how much he was in earnest, be- 
 gan, on her part, to play with a stronger desire 
 to conquer him ; and so the game went on, 
 while Hugh and Nettie agreed that chess was 
 the most unsociable and undesirable amuse- 
 ment (so called) that had ever been invented. 
 Hugh was himself no mean player, when he 
 gave his mind to it, but he did not approve of 
 th2 masterful manner in which his brother had 
 monopolized Ada. 
 
 " Checkmate ! " 
 
 It was Ada's voice, withjust the faintest quiver 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 55 
 
 of excitement in it, and Bruce threw back his 
 hair from his forehead with a gesture which 
 those who knew him best knew to signify annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 "Yes, I have seen for some time that it was 
 coming," he said ; "I must own to a very care- 
 less play at first." 
 
 It was Ada's turn to redden now. 
 
 " You might have left me my poor little vic- 
 tory," she said, half laughingly, half seriously ; 
 " it would have been more generous." 
 
 "You would not want me to be generous if 
 you mean that I should have played as with 
 an inferior player," he said, almost crossly, 
 " but, if it is any satisfaction to you, I will own 
 that when we began I did not entertain the 
 same respect for you as an opponent that I do 
 now." 
 
 "Ah, you prejudged my case ! " she replied, 
 laughing good-humorcdly. 
 
 "Well, I suppose I should feel flattered at 
 your confession. You shall have your revenge 
 when you will." 
 
 " Not to-day," said Hugh. " I protest. Bruce 
 takes pleasure too sadly, as the Frenchman 
 said of the Englishman. I want to show you 
 the Night-blooming Cereus I told you about, 
 Ada. The buds seem quite ready to open to-. 
 
56 
 
 THE iMVSGKOVE KAXCH. 
 
 night, and he offered her his arm with ostenta- 
 tious gallantry. 
 
 " Auntie, you must come too," said Ada, 
 who thought s'he saw a tendency in her cousins 
 sometimes to be lacking in attention to their 
 mother. " I shall not enjoy my walk half as 
 well without you." And Mrs. Musgrove was 
 very well pleased to go with the young peo- 
 ple. 
 
 Nettie, anxious to discuss the picnic, follow- 
 ed, while Bruce, lighting a cigar, strolled to and 
 fro on the piazza. 
 
 He did not like being conquered in anything, 
 and it took him a few minutes to get over the 
 little matter of Ada's victory. Strange to say, 
 it was the fact of its being Ada's which made 
 it more important than it would otherwise 
 have been. 
 
 Why was it so t She was habitually gentle 
 in manner, a lady always, with a grace which 
 can only come from good breeding, and yet, 
 under all this Bruce had detected from the first 
 a strength of character and purpose which on 
 the one hand attracted and on the other irri- 
 tated him. 
 
 His whole bringing up had, unfortunately, 
 tended to develop and strengthen what was 
 arbitrary in his nature, until he had really 
 
THE MVSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 57 
 
 beccme something of an autocrat — always 
 deferred to in his home circle, and even to a 
 great extent beyond it, as men of strong mind 
 and strong will are apt to be. And in this 
 placid, gracious young cousin he instinctively 
 felt there was a spirit which would not be 
 controlled by his. 
 
 Again, like many and many a young man of 
 promise in this great Western world, with its 
 avenues to riches and success, with so much to 
 foster worldly ambition and enterprise, with 
 such rich spoils for the eager brain and strong 
 hand, Bruce Musgrove had come by degrees to 
 centre his hopes and desires upon purely worldly 
 objects. The spiritual part of him, with all its 
 glorious possibilities had become, if not dwarfed, 
 at least dulled and deadened. Its needs had 
 been denied until they no longer asked to be 
 satisfied. And there had been nothing about 
 him in any way to awaken a sense of the loss 
 he had sustained. With the one exception, 
 indeed, of Mr. Ashleigh, no one had ever point- 
 edly addressed him on the subject of his relig- 
 ious obligations, and he had then arrived at a 
 standpoint from which such interference had 
 seemed unwarrantable presumption. 
 
 And here was Ada Selwyn, evidently belong- 
 ing to another world, in respect to those things 
 
58 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 which he had gradually come to regard with 
 supercilious contempt, and yet a person of such 
 culture and strength of character that it was 
 impossible to despise her mental position. 
 
 So Bruce, when he reflected on his cousin, 
 found himself in an uncomfortable condition of 
 mind. 
 
 He was annoyed with himself this evening for 
 allowing his reflections on Ada to engross him, 
 and in a little while he set out on a brisk walk 
 to a laborer's cottage to make arrangements 
 for irrigating a new portion of the ranch on the 
 morrow. 
 
 Meanwhile the others had visited the Night- 
 blooming Cereus, and finding that it was on the 
 very verge of opening, Ada had declared that 
 she must wait to see it, and Hugh had hastened 
 back to the house for wraps for the ladies. 
 
 The sunset came and faded while they waited, 
 and then Ada witnessed for the first time the 
 magical unfolding of the mysterious flower. The 
 heavy perfume had a strange effect upon her. 
 
 " How wonderful, how marvelous," she said, 
 watching the opening blossom ; "ah, how can 
 any one looking even at this, doubt that the 
 hand of a great Creator fashioned this glorious 
 world ! " The others were silent, but Mrs. Mus- 
 grove pressed her niece's hand, as though her 
 words awakened an answering feeling. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RA^TCH. 
 
 59 
 
 Bruce joined them as they were about to re- 
 turn to the house ; the first fresh glory of the 
 flower had already passed away. 
 
 "Ah, Bruce, you have missed the loveliest 
 sight ! " exclaimed Ada, " though, of course, it 
 is not new to you." 
 
 But Bruce was cold and irresponsive. " Yes, 
 I have often seen them," he said. '" As a boy 
 they had quite a fascination for me, but I sel- 
 dom watch them now." 
 
 " Bruce is too practical to spend his time on 
 night-blooming flowers," said Nettie, who had 
 not forgiven her brother for his last " snub- 
 bing," as she called it ; " 'time is money' is his 
 motto. He is a true American grafted on a 
 canny Scotchman ! " 
 
 Bruce never gave his sister the faintest rea- 
 son to suppose that her little speeches affected 
 him, and Ada could not but admire his absolute 
 self-control in this matter, for Nettie seemed 
 to delight in little irritating sallies when she 
 could indulge in them with impunity. 
 
 "Are you going to this picnic, Bruce .■'" asked 
 Ada, who had fallen into the habit of changing 
 the conversation when Nettie delivered her 
 shots ; " you told me you would take me to the 
 Canon some time." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A BRIGHT, breezy day added to the enjoy- 
 ment of the picnic party, which had gathered at 
 the Musgrove Ranch, and they set out in high 
 spirits. All were on horseback except Bruce 
 and Ada ; the latter not having a riding-horse, 
 her cousin of course volunteered to drive Alep- 
 po in his buggy. Ada had, it is true, demurred 
 at this; it was to have been a riding expedition, 
 and it seemed to her that the young ladies of 
 the party might feel a little aggrieved in being 
 deprived of Bruce as a cavalier. She had even 
 proposed, though not without misgivings, that 
 she should be permitted to ride Billy, but this 
 was met with so much good-natured derision, 
 that she consented to Bruce's arrangement. 
 
 She had scarcely been alone with him since 
 her conversation with Mr. Ashleigh had made 
 plain to her the relation which Bruce occupied 
 towards the clerg)man and his work. 
 
 Bruce had interested and attracted her more 
 than either of her cousins. His manliness, his 
 energy, the ambition which had already given 
 60 
 
THE MUSGROIE RANCH. 6 I 
 
 him the first position among the inhabitants of 
 the valley, even the reticence, which, contrast- 
 ed with Hugh's habitual light-heartedness and 
 Nettie's somewhat shallow manner, had com- 
 bined to make her enjoy his society, and arrive, 
 rather hastily, at a conception of his character 
 which was too favorable. Ada's weakness — 
 and which of us is without a weakness ? — was a 
 tendency to jump to conclusions. She had 
 been proportionately disappointed at Bruce's 
 almost contemptuous reference to the church 
 at Caliente, and Mr. Ashleigh's account of the 
 young man's course of action had grieved and 
 shocked her the more because of the high 
 opinion she had entertained of him. 
 
 Aleppo seemed excited to distinguish himself 
 by the presence of the gay riders, and dashed 
 on at such speed that Ada would have almost 
 lost her nerve had she not placed great confi- 
 dence in Bruce as a driver. It was exhilarating, 
 and even exciting, to be whirled along, the fresh 
 breeze blowing in her face, over the open valley 
 towards the mountains, which she never wearied 
 in watching. 
 
 The cousins had exchanged but a few words 
 since setting out. Gradually they found them- 
 selves at a considerable distance in advance oi 
 the others, who, after the first brisk gallop, had 
 
62 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 subsided into a pace suited to keeping up their 
 merry conversation. Tlie mouth of the Canon, 
 which was their destination, began to show hke 
 a black shadow on the mountain-side. 
 
 " I have no idea what a caiion is hke," said 
 Ada, as Aleppo began to slacken his speed on 
 the steeper incline ; "is it very wild and 
 weird ? " 
 
 " Wild enough, in some places," replied Bruce, 
 " even to suit the greatest lover of romantic 
 scenery, but there are some green and shady 
 spots which you will enjoy. By the by, have 
 you ever seen a rattlesnake .'' " 
 
 " Never, except in a zoological collection," 
 said Ada, with a little feminine shudder ; " I 
 hope they are not plentiful in the Cafion ! " 
 
 " You need not be alarmed ; a rattlesnake is 
 not a difficult thing to kill. A home in South- 
 ern California would hardly be complete with- 
 out a good collection of rattles. Has not Hugh 
 shown you ours .'' " 
 
 " No, Hugh has neglected my education in 
 that respect." 
 
 " Well, we may be able to show you some 
 fresh specimens to-day." 
 
 " You frighten me, Bruce," said Ada, who 
 was really weak-minded in the matter of snakes ; 
 " seriously, are we likely to see any } " 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 63 
 
 Bruce turned his head and looked at his 
 cousin curiously. 
 
 " It is almost refreshing to find that Miss 
 Ada Selwyn has at least one weakness." 
 
 Ada laughed, a little flattered, and yet more 
 than a little annoyed at Bruce's implied view 
 of her character. 
 
 " I must be a very uncomfortable person for 
 common mortals to live with," she said, "if I 
 have only one weakness. I am afraid I could 
 not quite enjoy being so near perfection." 
 
 " Well," said Bruce, as he gave Aleppo the 
 faintest suggestion of the whip, " possibly there 
 might be one other. ' 
 
 " That is comforting ; what is it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps the least, the very least, little ten- 
 dency to like her own way." 
 
 He had not intended, even under cover of a 
 joke, to hint at what had been in his mind ever 
 since they had stopped that day at Caliente, 
 but we sometimes find ourselves, against our 
 will, giving expression to our thoughts. 
 
 " You always seem so much in earnest, Bruce; 
 How have I shown it .'' " 
 
 They were not very far from the entrance to 
 the Canon, and Aleppo was walking leisurely 
 enough. 
 
 "Well," said the young man slowly, and 
 
64 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 looking straight before him as he spoke, " I 
 gave you credit for so much good sense that 
 I was surprised at your trip to Cahente on 
 Sunday." 
 
 "Why, Bruce ? " 
 
 Ada's heart was beating almost painfully, but 
 she was not half-hearted. 
 
 Bruce laughed slightly. 
 
 " Why .'' because a drive of six miles across 
 the valley with mother's old horse — and alone 
 — seemed, to my judgment, not worthy of the 
 admirable sense of my cousin Ada." 
 
 " I did not enjoy the drive at all," said she, 
 calmly, " but 1 had no alternative, for I felt 
 sure that neither you nor Hugh would wish to 
 drive me there." 
 
 " That may be quite true," said Bruce, " and 
 tliere comes in another question : you have not 
 found us, I hope, in any way neglectful of your 
 wishes or your comfort, since you came to us .''" 
 
 " No, most certainly." 
 
 " Then — pardon me for saying so — might you 
 not have supposed that we had some reason, at 
 least worth considering, for not wishing you to 
 attend church at Caliente .' " 
 
 Ada kept silence for a few moments. " It 
 did not seem to me that any reason, except the 
 very gravest, could justify me in staying away 
 
THE MVSGROVE RANCIL 
 
 65 
 
 from the services of the church, if by any means 
 I could get there." 
 
 The deliberation with which she spoke, the 
 quiet conviction of her manner, as gentle as it 
 was determined, had a curious effect upon her 
 cousin. He had never, as far back as his mem- 
 ory had carried him, met with an opposition of 
 the kind. His strong will and masterful man- 
 ner had always, from a child, had their way 
 with his surroundings. It was anew experience 
 to be thus gently >et firmly opposed. The 
 harsh look which Ada had seen before came 
 into his face, robbing it of its comeliness. 
 
 "We have been brought up in different 
 schools, it seems," he said, coldly; " my contact 
 with nature, and my practical life, as well as 
 some study of science, have turned my mind 
 into another channel. Mediaeval mummery is 
 not my line." 
 
 " Neither is it mine," said Ada, still calmly, 
 though her cheeks were beginning to brighten 
 with a flush of excitement, "but I fail to see 
 what medijeval mummery has to do \\ith the 
 services at Caliente. Nothing could be simpler 
 than the one which I attended. And let me 
 tell you, Bruce, that I was amply rewarded for 
 my rather uncomfortable drive, by being able to 
 take part in it. That little church, so poor and 
 
66 THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 unpretending, yet standing forth to witness for 
 our Master, has touched my heart in away that 
 I cannot describe," 
 
 "Of course," said Bruce, with a sneer, "I 
 make every allowance for a lady's sentiment." 
 
 Ada waited until she could control herself. 
 
 " You need make none for me, Bruce. I am 
 not what would be called a sentimental person, 
 and my love for the Church rests on a firmer 
 basis, I hope, than mere sentiment." 
 
 " Call it the force of habit, then," said Bruce, 
 harshly, "training, association, running in the 
 old grooves, fear of hewing out fresh cisterns 
 in place of the old time-worn channels, with 
 their accumulation of rubbish." 
 
 The look with which Ada answered him pho- 
 tographed itself on Bruce's memory. It was a 
 look the like of which he had never met before. 
 There was so much sadness,, so much pity, in it 
 — a sort of yearning kindness — an almost 
 imploring appeal. As their eyes met, the color 
 rose slowly to his face, though it would have 
 been impossible for him to explain the feeling 
 which caused it to do so. 
 
 " Can it be, Bruce, that you are one of those 
 who despise what the best and noblest and 
 wisest of all the centuries since Christ have 
 lived and died for ? Have you, even without a 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. f] 
 
 Struggle, given up all for these new lights ? 
 Have you put science in the place of God ? " 
 
 She scarcely knew what she had spoken. 
 The thought was so intense that it had clothed 
 itself in words of which she was almost uncon- 
 scious ; and he, for his part, had read in her 
 face all that her words expressed. 
 
 He laughed a little uneasily. 
 
 " You are quite eloquent," he said, " but as I 
 said before, I fear we are so far apart in our 
 views and inclinations and studies, that there 
 is little likelihood of our coming to an under- 
 standing. With regard to your visits to Cali- 
 ente, I have of course no right to dictate to you; 
 only this I must explain. Mr. Ashleigh, some 
 time since, presumed in an unwarrantable man- 
 ner to interfere with my freedom of action, arj. 
 I consider myself fully justified in ignoring him. 
 My family, of course, are with me, but as re- 
 gards yourself, naturally I have no authority." 
 
 " I am glad, at least, that you have explained 
 your position," she replied, "that we may 
 understand each other in this matter. As for 
 me, my duty, as a member of the Church, is so 
 plain that were I to neglect it I should be act- 
 ing against my conscience, and could not re- 
 spect mySelf " 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was strange and sad what a gulf seemed 
 to have opened between the cousins. Ada was 
 conscious of a more passionate feehng of indig- 
 nation and pain than she had ever before expe- 
 rienced. Tears were near her eyes, and it was 
 only by a great effort that she kept them back. 
 As for Bruce, the unchecked pride of his nature, 
 the tendency to domineer which his whole life 
 had fostered, made his cousin's calm opposition 
 to his wishes almost unbearable, the more so, 
 because he was deeply conscious of her supe- 
 riority. 
 
 He had made no reply to her last remark, 
 except by a light, angry laugh, and they drove 
 on in silence. Slowly the Caiion began to open 
 before them ; the road ran between low walls 
 of rock, among ■which the scrub-oak found here 
 and there a footing ; now and then they drove 
 for a short distance in deep shadow, cast by a 
 projecting spur of the mountains, which were 
 now gradually inclosing them. 
 
 As they advanced, the scene grew in wlld- 
 63 
 
THE MVSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 69 
 
 ness and solemnity. Sheer walls of rock in 
 some places, in others huge blocks piled on one 
 another, like gigantic masonry, from the crev- 
 ices in which a scrub-oak or stunted pine hung 
 forward like a banner. Higher and higher 
 grew the Cafion sides and the sky overhead 
 looked a deep, awful blue. The silence and 
 wild majesty of nature gradually stilled Ada's 
 painful agitation. There was something which 
 lifted her thoughts above earthly pains and 
 troubles, and brought them nearer the peace of 
 heaven. The angry look, too, passed out of 
 Bruce's face. He was, in truth, scarcely less 
 susceptible to the influences of nature than 
 was Ada. 
 
 " Have you ever seen anything like this V 
 he asked after a while, turning towards her for 
 a moment ; and Ada, meeting his eyes, saw that 
 for the time being there was a truce between 
 them. 
 
 " Never, " she answered ; " I cannot tell you 
 how it charms me." 
 
 " Some people are not fond of this wild soli- 
 tude," he said ; " it depresses them, but to me 
 it has always been a keen enjoyment to feel 
 myself in the very heart of nature." 
 
 " It is what I have always longed for," said 
 Ada ; " I have spent ncarlyall my life in cities, 
 
7° 
 
 THE M use ROVE RANCH. 
 
 or resorts which always seemed to me like an 
 outgrowth of cities, and when I have read of 
 places like this I have often felt impatient of 
 the conventional enjoyments around me. I 
 hope you will not think me too strong-minded," 
 she added, laughing. It wr.s a relief to be able 
 to speak pleasantly to Bruce again. 
 
 " I shall be able to judge better of that when 
 we meet our first rattlesnake," he answered 
 grimly ; and Ada was subdued. 
 
 The unevenness of the road made progress 
 slow, even with Aleppo, but none too slow for 
 Ada, to whom e\'ery fresh combination of 
 mountain and rock and chasm was a pleasure 
 from which she was loath to part. Presently 
 the profound silence was broken by the distant 
 sound of water, and they came in sight of a sil- 
 very water-fall, spread like a veil over a pre- 
 cipitous rock and dashing itself into foam upon 
 the debris at its base. It was gathered into a 
 dark pool a little farther on , and then, overflow- 
 ing its bounds, became a stream, murmuring 
 over a stony bed and feeding a narrow belt of 
 verdure along its sides. A group of sycamores 
 stood near its margin, and here, at Ada's sug- 
 gestion, they halted, and Bruce helped his cou- 
 sin to alight. He spread a shawl for her under 
 the trees and took Aleppo down to the water. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH 
 
 71 
 
 What an awful, utter solitude it seemed, 
 when an angle of rock had hidden him from her 
 sight ! Ada tried to fancy what it would have 
 been had she not known that her cousin was 
 within a couple of hundred yards of her, and 
 had this seeming solitude been real. 
 
 She sat thus for some time, long enough to 
 feel how small one human being is in such a 
 scene ; then suddenly, just as Bruce, having re- 
 turned and tied Aleppo to a projecting branch 
 of a sycamore, had thrown himself down beside 
 her, a burst of merry laughter was carried by 
 the breeze to where they sat and the riding 
 party came in sight, shouting and waving • 
 whips and handkerchiefs at view of the advance 
 guard, as they called the cousins. 
 
 Foremost rode Hugh Musgrove with a very 
 handsome, dark girl, who sat her horse most 
 gracefully. She had been introduced to Ada 
 as Miss Louise Croflon, but in the hurry of de- 
 parture she had not realized her striking ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " Are we to call a halt here," asked this 
 fair amazon, addressing Bruce, " or do you pro- 
 pose waiting our return from the upper falls ?" 
 
 There was just a faint touch of annoyance or 
 satire in her voice which jarred on Ada, to 
 whom it suddenly recurred that it had been 
 
72 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 proposed that all should ride because the road 
 to the upper falls was not practicable except on 
 horseback. 
 
 " It would quite spoil this delightful day to 
 me,'' she said, " if I prevented Bruce from going 
 to the falls. I really ought not to have come, 
 as I did not ride." 
 
 " Nonsense, Ada ; we wanted to show you the 
 Canon," said Bruce. " I know the upper falls 
 by heart ; so we will wait here till they come 
 back." 
 
 But Ada turned to Hugh. 
 
 " Will yoti stay with me, Hugh .'' " she said ; 
 " it seems scarcely fair that Bruce should be 
 tied to my chariot-wheels all the time." 
 
 " A willing captive," laughed Miss Crofton. 
 
 " No doubt," said Ada, good-naturedly, but 
 we must not impose even upon the most will- 
 ing." 
 
 " I insist on staying with Ada," said Hugh, 
 gallantly, dismounting as he spoke ; " I pledge 
 myself to be her most devoted knight." 
 
 Bruce had alread risen from his seat. He 
 was not a man of many words, so no one was 
 surprised at his vaulting onto Hugh's horse, 
 and, while the others were laughing and chat- 
 ting, quietly riding on beside Miss Crofton. 
 The others, expressing their regret that Ada 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 73, 
 
 and Hugh could not be of the company, fol- 
 lowed, each turning to wave an adieu before 
 disappearing behind the projecting rock. 
 
 A little silence fell after they were gone. 
 
 " It is too bad, Hugh," said Ada, turning to 
 her cousin, " that I should have spoiled your 
 ride." 
 
 Hugh laughed cheerily. 
 
 " You may rest assured, Ada, putting chiv- 
 alry aside, that I feel I have made a good ex- 
 change. The fair Louise is not one of my 
 especial favorites, perhaps because she is the 
 07ie young lady who has the bad taste to snub 
 me. The fact is, between ourselves, Bruce 
 stands high in her graces, and she was scarcely 
 civil to me as we rode along." 
 
 " Oh, you must not tell me anybody's secrets," 
 said Ada, deprecatingly; and then she found 
 herself wondering whether Miss Crofton was 
 the sort of person likely to influence Bruce for 
 good. She was about to ask a question, and 
 then checked herself. 
 
 " What is it, Ada .? " asked Hugh. " You have 
 such a speaking face, that I know you were 
 going to ask me something." 
 
 " I was going to ask you whether Miss Crof- 
 ton was a member of the church, and then I 
 hesitated because I feared that you might share 
 
74 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 Bruce's views to the extent of not caring to 
 speak about the churcli at all." 
 
 Hugh's handsome face wore a perplexed look 
 for a moment. 
 
 " As regards Miss Crofton, I have an idea 
 that she — well — that she does not go in for re- 
 ligion of any kind. As for not caring to speak 
 of the church, to be candid with j'ou, Ada, I 
 know next to nothing about it." 
 
 He threw himself back upon the wild grass 
 where they were sitting, and looked up at her 
 with such honest eyes that Ada had a strange 
 feeling of being much older — almost as though 
 he had been a young, ignorant boy. He was, 
 indeed, little else, as regards religious teaching 
 and impressions. 
 
 " You think me a very dreadful fellow, do 
 you not .''" he said. 
 
 " No," she replied, gently ; '' no, Hugh, I do 
 not think you at all dreadful. I have every 
 reason to think you the ver)' opposite. But, 
 Hugh "■ — she paused, and her clear gray eyes 
 seemed to darken with the intensity of her feel- 
 ing — " the more I like you, the more it grieves 
 me that in the things which are to me the 
 most sacred and the most dear, there should be 
 no sympathy between us." 
 
 If any one had told Hugh that he would drift 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 75 
 
 into a religious conversati-on with his cousin, he 
 would have been strongly tempted not to have 
 risked a tete a tete, but it came about so natur- 
 ally, she was so simple and so earnest, that he 
 found himself, to his own amazement, listening 
 to language which was absolutely new to him, 
 on a subject to which — alas ! that it must be 
 said — he, in common with many and many 
 another young man of the brightest worldly 
 promise, had never devoted an hour's serious 
 thought. It may have been that the solitude and 
 solemn silence of the place gave added weight 
 to the simple words of deepest meaning which 
 fell from the young girl's lips. 
 
 "I cannot tell you, Hugh," tightly clasping 
 her hands together in her eagerness — '' I cannot 
 tell you how much you lose by leaving religion, 
 as I understand it, out of your lives. It seems 
 to me, comparing great things with small, 
 like robbing a flower of its perfume. Life is so 
 much better with it, so much higher, and 
 seems, indeed, so m-eaningless without it. Joys 
 are made so much sweeter, and even pain — yes, 
 even pain is made a blessing by it." 
 
 It is wonderful what influence young minds 
 may exert over one another. It is doubtful 
 if any older person, no matter how eloquent 
 or how convincing, could have made quite the 
 
76 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 same impression on Hugh's mind and feelings 
 as did Ada in the unconscious earnestness of 
 her youth. There came into his face a sort of 
 dawning appreciation of her meaning. 
 
 " You have a way of recommending religion," 
 he said, coloring as he spoke, "which makes 
 me feel there must be something in it, but yet, 
 to be honest with you, Ada, I, for my own part, 
 have never felt the need of it. Does it seem 
 strange to you .-'" he asked. " Why, you look as 
 if you were sorry for me !" and he smiled, half 
 amused, half touched, by the look of gentle pity 
 in her face. 
 
 " Yes, Hugh, very sorry." 
 
 He laughed a little good-naturedly, 
 
 " Well, you must take us in hand ; not Bruce 
 — I fear you would find him too unmanageable 
 — but mother, poor mother, and Nettie, and 
 your humble servant ; perhaps you can make 
 something of us yet." 
 
 Ada smiled and sighed. 
 
 " You'll have to take yourself in hand, Hugh ; 
 all that I ask of },-ou is to promise me that you 
 will not put these things away from you, as of 
 no moment, but that you will at least spend a 
 little time in thinking of them." 
 
 And Hugh promised, 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SUDDEN, violent rearing motion of Aleppo, 
 who had hitherto been contentedly lunching 
 under the sycamores, startled Ada and her 
 cousin. The latter sprang to his feet in a mo- 
 ment, and, before Ada had time to wonder, had 
 darted forward to the excited animal and 
 snatched the whip from its place in the buggy. 
 Surely he was not going to punish the horse, 
 thought Ada, with a woman's dread of seeing 
 pani inflicted, but the next moment she saw 
 what drove the blood from her cheek to her 
 heart. 
 
 Some twenty paces distant, slowly drawing 
 its shining length from a crevice in the rocks, 
 and, even as Ada looked, raising its dreadful 
 head, was an enormous rattlesnake. A cry of 
 terror escaped her. 
 
 " O Hugh, Hugh, come back ! " 
 
 But Hugh, without turning toward her, shook 
 
 his left hand with a peremptory gesture, and, 
 
 grasping the whip in his right, while keeping 
 
 his eyes warily fixed upon the snake, took a 
 
 11 
 
78 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 step or two in its direction. Ada felt faint with 
 terror ; she turned away, and covered her face 
 with her hands. It seemed to her that a long, 
 dreadful time had passed, but in reality it was 
 only a very few minutes, before Hugh's cheery 
 voice called out to her : 
 
 " All right, Ada ! You needn't be afraid to 
 look ; he won't frighten you or Aleppo any 
 more." 
 
 There, like another St. George over the Dra- 
 gon, stood Hugh, his handsome face flushed 
 with excitement, bending over the defunct rat- 
 tlesnake. 
 
 " Don't you want to see him near '>. Why, 
 Ada, I thought you were above such feminine 
 weaknesses ! " 
 
 " No, Hugh, I am nothing but a poor coward 
 about snakes. Are you quite sure that he is 
 dead } " 
 
 " Well, to make assurance doubl\' sure, I am 
 going to cut his head off," which Hugh pro- 
 ceeded to do. " Do come and look at him ; he 
 is really a beauty." 
 
 And Ada, inwardly shuddering, could not 
 seem ungrateful to her protecting knight, and 
 unwillingly approached the prostrate foe. 
 
 " You have kept your pledge of being my 
 chivalrous defender," she said, as cheerfully as 
 
THE MUSGROVE KAXCU. 
 
 79 
 
 she could ; " I wonder will the others have any 
 trophies to show ! " 
 
 " Not likely," said Hugh ; " they have kept 
 up such a clatter and chatter, that the snakes 
 have kept out of their way." 
 
 Aleppo was still quivering with his late ex- 
 citement when Ada went up to him. She 
 patted his arching neck, and spoke lovingly and 
 soothingly to him, and presently he quieted 
 down, and laid his head against her shoulder. 
 She was still patting him when the rest of the 
 party returned, hungry, but in high spirits, and 
 were greeted by the sight of the snake, with 
 which Hugh had festooned a bough of a syca- 
 more. 
 
 " See," said Miss Crofton, pointing to it with 
 her whip, " the valiant knight has slain the 
 dragon ! " 
 
 " Have none of you anything to show ? " 
 asked Hugh, derisively. 
 
 " No, you are the champion of the day," said 
 Nettie ; " but we were fondly imagining that 
 you and Ada would have had our luncheon un- 
 packed when we returned, instead of being oc- 
 cupied with rattlesnakes." 
 
 The cavaliers helped the ladies to alight, and 
 then Bruce turned to Ada. 
 
 " Were you frightened ? " he asked. 
 
8o THE MUSGRC-VE RANCH. 
 
 " Yes, miserably frightened ; I told you that 
 I should be." 
 
 " What a confession ! " laughed Miss Crofton. 
 " Miss Selwyn afraid ! " 
 
 " It is best to be honest, is it not ?" said Ada, 
 with a direct glance into the young lady's dark 
 eyes. 
 
 There was something, she knew not what, 
 almost antagonistic to her, in this handsome 
 young stranger ; an almost mocking tone in 
 her voice when she addressed her, which would 
 have easily disconcerted a person of less self- 
 possession and refinement. 
 
 They were a very happy, merry party when 
 the luncheon baskets were unpacked, and they 
 were grouped about them in easy attitudes, 
 enjoying Mrs. Musgrove's chicken pies and 
 other delicacies. 
 
 Ada was the most silent, for she felt herself, 
 to a certain extent, still a stranger amongst 
 them, and her conversation with her two 
 cousins that morning had somewhat sad- 
 dened her. Neither had the two young men 
 forgotten it. Not all the gay sallies and little 
 wiles of Miss Crofton had restored Bruce to his 
 normal state of proud self-satisfaction ; for had 
 he not met, for the first time, with deliberate, 
 unyielding opposition ? While as for Hugh, 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 8 I 
 
 even while taking part in the merry jesting go- 
 ing on around him, he could not but recall 
 from time to time some of Ada's words, spoken 
 with such direct simplicity and earnestness, 
 when they were alone. 
 
 The afternoon waned only too quickly, and 
 the sun dropped, prematurely as it seemed, be- 
 hind the vast mountain west of the Canon. 
 First a rosy reflection and then a soft shadow 
 fell around the merry party, and unwillingly it 
 was agreed that the time for the return home 
 had come. 
 
 Bruce was again Ada's companion, for he 
 seemed unwilling to trust Aleppo to any other 
 driver. The two were silent a good part of 
 the distance to the Canon-mouth, which they 
 reached in time to see a second sunset in the 
 open. Then through the short twilight and a 
 lovely moon-rise, they drove on down the long, 
 gentle incline. How intensely would Ada have 
 enjoyed it, had she not felt that her pleasant 
 relation with her cousin had been sadly 
 marred ! 
 
 The mocking-birds were singing their loud- 
 est when they drove into the ranch, and the 
 mingled moonlight and shadows made it seem 
 like fairy-land. 
 
 " How lovely this is !" said Ada, i.ivoluntarily, 
 
82 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " I wish all my Eastern friends could be here 
 to-night !" 
 
 " Do you always want to share your pleas- 
 ures ?" asked Bruce. 
 
 " Yes, I think I do — all that can be shared." 
 
 "What an unselfish g'irl you are !" 
 
 '■ Not at all ; do 3-ou not think our pleasures 
 are increased by sharing them ?" 
 
 " My philosophy has not gone out in that 
 direction," laughed Bruce ; " I fancy if you ask 
 my character, you will find the verdict that I 
 am a very self-contained person, and do not 
 devote much thought to the pleasures of other 
 people." 
 
 " You are giving yourself too bad a charac- 
 ter, Bruce," exclaimed Ada ; " I, for one, could 
 not pass that verdict upon you." 
 
 " It is a true one, nevcrthelcss,"he said, de- 
 fiantly. " Do you think I could have succeeded 
 as I have, had I not devoted myself to my own 
 aims and ends and not wasted time on other 
 people ?" 
 
 They had reached the house, and Ada had no 
 time to reply to a speech which jarred upon 
 her painfully. So the day ended with a dis- 
 cord. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove was on the look-out for the 
 young people, and it was a relief to Ada to see 
 
THE MUSGROVE A'AXCH. 83 
 
 the motherly face aad to rest her head for a 
 moment on her aunt's shoulder. 
 
 " Tired, my dear ?" 
 
 " Yes, a little tired, auntie. It has been a 
 wonderful day, but I feel like being a good 
 child and going straight to bed." 
 
 Yet after she had gone to her room she sat 
 thinking by the open window, in the darkness. 
 And after a while Bruce came out with his 
 cigar, and she saw his tall figure, now in moon- 
 light, now in shadow, sauntering to and fro. 
 The two minds were occupied with each other, 
 but how differently ! It was with a prayer for 
 Bruce upon her lips that Ada at last fell asleep, 
 while Bruce himself went to rest pra)-erless. 
 
 What a terrible mist ike is a prayerless life ; 
 what a misconception of its own meaning, of its 
 relation to the great author of all being ; what 
 a stifling of the deeper, higher attributes of the 
 human soul ! 
 
 Alas ! for the dull ingratitude that loses 
 sight of the Giver among the gifts, that grows 
 unconscious of its real needs, and loses all per- 
 ception of the glorious end for which we were 
 created. 
 
 When we think of the uncertainty of life, of 
 the burdens with which it is freighted, of human 
 helplessness in the face of the awful forces by 
 
84 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 which we are surrounded, it becomes a marvel- 
 ous as well as a melancholy thing that there 
 should be so many, even among those endowed 
 with noble mental gifts, who have thus cut 
 themselves adrift from God. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 At the breakfast - table, on the following 
 Sunday, Ada turned to Hugh. 
 
 " Will you drive me over to Caliente, 
 Hugh ?" she asked, in her direct, simple way. 
 " I do not care, unless in case of necessity, to 
 repeat my last Sunday's experience with poor, 
 dear Billy, and I mitst go to service. 
 
 There was just a moment's pause before 
 Hugh answered. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove began filling the coffee-cups 
 in a reckless manner. Bruce turned quite pale, 
 which was an ominous sign, and Nettie looked 
 from one to. the other curiously. 
 
 ■' I am at your service, Ada," replied Hugh ; 
 " for the honor of the Musgrove name I cannot 
 let you drive Ichabod to Caliente again." 
 
 Bruce bit his lips to keep back the words 
 which his common sense told him had better 
 be left unsaid. For, after all, though hitherto 
 Hugh had almost invariably allowed himself 
 to be guided if not controlled by his elder 
 85 
 
86 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 brother, yet he was a man, and entitled to a 
 man's Hberty of action. 
 
 It made it none the less exasperating to find 
 that his (Bruce's) will and pleasure should be 
 ignored, and that Ada should be the means of 
 his authority being set aside in his own family. 
 He could not altogether refrain. 
 
 " You understand, Hugh, that I enter my 
 protest against any of our family going to Mr. 
 Ashleigh's church. Ada knows my views — I 
 need say nothing more. You are not children, 
 and I cannot forbid your goini;." 
 
 " I am more than sorry, Bruce," said Ada, 
 " to give )'ou any annoyance, but as I told \-ou 
 the other day, I do not consider that I have 
 any choice. I must attend church even at the 
 risk of your displeasure." 
 
 Bruce vouchsafed no reply, and Hugh 
 thought it best to remain silent also, though 
 sorely tempted to make an angry reply to his 
 brother. 
 
 A drive with Hugh behind a horse only 
 inferior to Aleppo was a very different thing 
 from a solitar)- drive with Billy ; and Caliente 
 was reached in what seemed an incredibly 
 short time to Ada. The place looked just as 
 it had on the previous Sunda)'s, but passing 
 the "saloons" at a rapid pace witli Hugh was 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 87 
 
 SO much better than creeping past them with 
 the old horse alone ! 
 
 The cousins had not conversed much as they 
 drove along, but now, as they approached the 
 church, Ada asked Hugh if he had ever seen it 
 inside, and he replied in the negative. 
 
 " You are going in with me to-day, are you 
 not, Hugh ?" she asked. If only she could bring 
 him into contact with Mr. Ashleigh, she felt 
 that a great step would be gained. 
 
 " Well, no," he answered, a little awkward- 
 ly ; " I thought of taking a drive, and coming 
 back for you." 
 
 " Ah, Hugh ! have you forgotten all we 
 talked about in the Canon .■' Come in with me ; 
 you will not regret it.'' 
 
 And Hugh, as much as anything to show 
 his independence of his brother, after a little 
 further entreaty on Ada's part, consented. 
 
 Years, absolutely years, had passed since the 
 young man had entered a place of worship, and 
 it was with a strange hesitancy that he did so 
 now. Ada had preceded him, and he found her 
 kneeling alone in the little building. He stood 
 for a few moments near the entrance before he 
 joined her. The stillness, the subdued light, 
 the altar in its chaste simplicity, with the plain, 
 burnished cross and beautiful flowers, the soli- 
 
88 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 tary, kneeling figure — there was something in it 
 all that impressed him in a way for which he 
 could not have accounted. He was touched by 
 a new influence, one altogether outside the 
 ordinary circle of his ideas and feelings. Ada 
 rose from her knees, and looked round at him, 
 with a smile that seemed one of affectionate 
 welcome, as he took his place beside her. 
 
 " Is it not a dear little church .' " she said, 
 softly ; " confess that you are pleased with it." 
 
 " I am," he said ; " it is so different from 
 what I expected." 
 
 Just then Mr. Ashleigh entered the church, 
 but not accompanied by his wife to-day. He 
 looked even more careworn than on the previ- 
 ous Sunday, but his face brightened at the sight 
 of Ada, and then an expression of astonishment 
 passed over it, when the young girl introduced 
 her companion as her cousin, Mr. Hugh Mus- 
 grove. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Musgrove," said 
 the clergyman, kindly ; " for many reasons, 
 among the rest, that your cousin has had an 
 escort to Caliente." 
 
 " It was not my fault that she had none last 
 Sunday," replied Hugh, coloring a little, for to 
 be thought lacking in gallantry touched him in 
 a sensitive point. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 89 
 
 " No, Hugh did not know last Sunday that 
 I was coming," said Ada promptly, and then 
 she inquired for Mrs. Ashleigh. 
 
 " My wife is not so well," replied the clergy- 
 man, and the shadow came over his face again. 
 " She has had a slight hemorrhage during the 
 week, and I could not allow her to risk the fa- 
 tigue of the walk and the service. May I — will 
 you play for us again ? " 
 
 " I shall be only too glad if I may. I am so 
 sorry," she added earnestly, " to hear about your 
 wife. "Would she care, do you think, to see 
 me after service for a little while .-' " 
 
 " You would do her more good than any 
 doctor," he answered, smiling. " I will show 
 you where we live." 
 
 He left them to prepare for service, and Ada 
 took her place at the organ. 
 
 Hugh changed his seat, also, for one less con- 
 spicuous. In fact, he felt somewhat out of place 
 and ill at ease. 
 
 Then Ada began a low, sweet prelude, and 
 her cousin, being Mssionately fond of music, 
 became, all uncon^iously, attuned to his sur- 
 roundings. How low and tender were those 
 chords, even on the unpretending little instru- 
 ment ! They seemed to plead to the soul, to 
 whisper of another, higher world than that of 
 
90 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 human joys and sorrows, and then how solemn 
 and deep, like a voice, speaking in awful and 
 yet loving warning, of righteousness, temper- 
 ance, and judgment to come. 
 
 A somewhat larger congregation than on 
 Ada's first Sunday gathered in the little church, 
 most of them inhabitants of Caliente, a few 
 from out-lying ranches, amongst the latter, one 
 or two of the Musgrove friends. 
 
 The service came to Hugh ^ith the force of 
 novelty, so long was it since he had attended 
 it, and, in his then frame of mind, its solemnity 
 and simple reverence touched him. Mr. Ash- 
 leigh's sermon, too, profoundly earnest and 
 practical, could not be without its effect. 
 
 Hugh remained seated until the people had 
 dispersed; he did not care to face the astonish- 
 ment of his acquaintances at seeing him at 
 church. 
 
 " It is not very far to our house," said Mr. 
 Ashleigh, having declined Hugh's offer of a seat ; 
 "if you will drive slowly, I will walk along with 
 you." 
 
 As Ada had supposed, the cottage on the 
 outskirts of the town, which she had noticed on 
 the occasion of her first visit to Caliente, was 
 the parsonage, if indeed it could be dignified by 
 t'.uit name. It was, in fact, so poor and roughly 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 91 
 
 constructed a dwelling that only a climate like 
 Southern California, could have made it habi- 
 table. But the climate had also embellished it 
 with exquisite creeping plants, and climbing 
 roses, and shaded it from the fierce sun with a 
 group of Eucalyptus and pepper trees. 
 
 Mr. Ashleigh helped Ada to alight, and 
 Hugh said he would drive on and return for his 
 cousin. 
 
 " I hoped so much that you would come to 
 see me," said Mrs. Ashleigh, coming with out- 
 stretched hands to meet her visitor. " I really 
 had a presentiment that you would." 
 
 Ada kissed the delicate, flushed face, and sat 
 down beside her. 
 
 " I have been wanting so much to see you," 
 she said ; "you are so like a friend of mine whom 
 I loved very dearly. I feel as if I had known 
 you ever so long." 
 
 " Was she — } " Mrs. Ashleigh checked her- 
 self, but there was a sweet, wistful look in her 
 eyes that almost brought tears to Ada's. 
 
 " We have had such a beautiful service," she 
 said quickly ; " only I missed you.'' 
 
 Mr. Ashleigh, who had lingered a moment to 
 speak to Hugh, came into the room, and while 
 he exchanged a loving greeting with his wife, 
 Ada glanced at her surroundings. Toonenur- 
 
^2 THE MUSGROVE RAA'CM. 
 
 tured as she had been, it was indeed a poor 
 home. With the exception of a comfortable 
 easy-chair, there v:as nothing which did not 
 betoken straitened circumstances, while at 
 tlie same time the refinement of the occupants 
 was equally visible. Home-made shelves laden 
 with books, some beautiful flowers, and one 
 choice, slightly framed engraving on the walls, 
 Holman Hunt's "Shadows of the Cross." 
 
 " My husband would not let me go," said 
 Mrs. Ashleigh, answering Ada. " I begged 
 hard, but he can be a tyrant sometimes " ; this 
 with her slender hand clasping his, and a look 
 of contented love in her eyes. 
 
 " I have brought you some peaches, because 
 you were a good girl," he said, drawing some 
 not very choice ones from his pocket. " I 
 stopped at Chessley's on my way to church." 
 
 Ada thought of the magnificent fruit with 
 which the trees on her cousins' ranch were 
 literally bowed down ; she thought, too, of the 
 affluence and lu.xury in which they lived, with- 
 out one thought, alas ! of those who were living 
 in the cold shadow of poverty and neglect, yet 
 content could they but do some work for Him, 
 who, blessed thought, was the "Man of sor- 
 rows, and acquainted with grief." 
 
THE MUSGROVE RAIVCir. 
 
 93 
 
 "Who drove you over from the ranch?" 
 asked Mrs. Ashleigh. 
 
 " Ah, there v/e have a surprise for you," said 
 her husband, cheerily, " though, to say the 
 truth, Miss Selwyn, my wife is already con- 
 vinced that you are a wonder worker, so that 
 she may take it quite as a matter of course 
 when she hears that one of the Messrs. Mus- 
 grove were at service to-day." 
 
 "No, I am ttot surprised. I think Miss Sel- 
 wyn's coming began a new era." 
 
 '' Ah, dear Mrs. Ashleigh ! may you be a 
 true prophet ! I v/ish I had the faith to believe 
 as much." 
 
 " You will probably be the last one to realize 
 it," the clergyman said, " but my wife may be 
 quite right; your coming maybe the means to 
 carry out one of God's good purposes." 
 
 An hour had passed very quickly, when 
 Hugh drove up to the garden gate, and Ada 
 unwillingly parted from the Ashleighs, prom- 
 ising to come again at the first opportunity. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "That is a poor sort of parsonage," said 
 Hugh, when they had driven a httle way in 
 silence ; " a rough place altogether for people of 
 refinement." 
 
 " What did you think of Mr. Ashleigh .'" ask- 
 ed Ada. 
 
 " He seems a man of ability and culture," 
 replied Hugh, somewhat hesitatingly; "a man 
 of character, and, I should judge, very much in 
 earnest. 
 
 " Yes, and that explains why such a man 
 and such a woman as his ■\\ife are content to 
 live in a place like Caliente, and in a home like 
 that miserable little place. Ah, Hugh ! it 
 made my heart ache to see Mrs. Ashleigh to- 
 day." 
 
 "Why ?" said Hugh, with half unv.'illing in- 
 terest ; "was she very sick ?" 
 
 " If you had seen her, Hugh, I know j-our 
 impulse would have been the same as mine— a 
 longing to do something for her ! Why, they 
 need what j'ou would call almost the neces- 
 
 94 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCIL 
 
 95 
 
 saries of life. And she looks so frail ! — I won- 
 der — " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I wonder if your mother — but I should not 
 say that. I know that I have but to tell her 
 what I have seen to make her want to do all in 
 her power for Mrs. Ashleigh, but — there is 
 Bruce !" 
 
 " Yes," said Hugh, angrily, " and Bruce is as 
 easily touched, where he has once made up his 
 mind, as the ' nether- millstone !' Well, he 
 has found to-day that I for one presume to 
 have a will of my own." 
 
 Ada was silent ; it pained her to hear Hugh 
 pronounce so harsh a verdict on his brother, 
 though Bruce had given her little cause to 
 think that it was undeserved, and she would 
 fain have championed him, for, in despite of 
 Bruce's apparent harshness, she still believed 
 in his better and nobler nature. 
 
 " It is a great grief to me, Hugh," she said 
 at last, hesitatingly, that I should be the cause 
 of any difference between you, and yet, being 
 here, I cannot take any other course. I have 
 thought seriously, the last day or two, that it 
 might be best for me to give up my pleasant 
 home with you all. And then, again, it seems 
 as if perhaps — though it may seem presump- 
 
gS THE M use ROVE RANCH. 
 
 tuous to say so — as if there might be a purpose 
 in my coming." 
 
 "I should say there was a purpose," said 
 Hugh, vehemently ; " don't let me hear the 
 smallest hint of your leaving us. I shall have 
 to consider you my prisoner, and — yes — I shall 
 put you on parole." 
 
 Ada could not help laughing quite heartily, 
 Hugh was so much in earnest. 
 
 " Well, if you really want me to stay, you 
 m-ust promise me not to have any scene with 
 Bruce. But perhaps Bruce himself might wish 
 me to go away !" 
 
 " Nonsense, Ada," said Hugh, indignantly ; 
 " and even if it were so, I hope you do not 
 consider him an absolute authority !" 
 
 " No, but if I thought that any of you would 
 be the happier for my absence, you may be 
 sure, Hugh, that I could not stay." 
 
 She spoke seriously, even sadly, and Hugh 
 felt really troubled. 
 
 "Why, Ada," he said, ''you are taking this 
 matter of Bruce too much to heart. It is true 
 that he has grown to be something of a tyrant 
 at home, but, after all, he is a Musgrove, and 
 would feel as badly as any of us at his affection 
 for you being called in question." 
 
 " I am glad you think so." 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 97 
 
 "Of course I think so. The fact is, Ada, we 
 have all given way to Bruce — perhaps more 
 than is good for him. You see he is a clever, 
 ambitidus fellow, and from a boy has had the 
 faculty of managing people better than I shall 
 do when I am twice his age," he added laugh- 
 ing; " and I have to confess that the Musgrove 
 Ranch would not be vi'hat it is to-day, if Hugh 
 instead of Bruce Musgrove had been at the 
 head of affairs." 
 
 " How long is it since Uncle Musgrove died .■' 
 I know that I was quite a child." 
 
 " I was not much more than a child myself, 
 and Bruce was only sixteen. Mother will tell 
 you that he seemed to take the whole burden 
 of care upon his shoulders, and that he made 
 the farm-hands respect and obey him from the 
 first." 
 
 In ^pite of Hugh's sudden assertion of inde- 
 pendence, he was at heart a warm admirer of 
 his brother, and once launched upon the sub- 
 ject, he went on to speak of Bruce's untiring 
 energy, self-denial and success in a way which 
 might have wearied a hearer less interested 
 than Ada. 
 
 But Ada, unconsciously to herself, wanted 
 to regain her first opinion of Bruce, and Hugh 
 found in her a willing listener. 
 
gS THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 The ranch looked more than usually beauti- 
 ful to Ada, when they left the brown, barren 
 land for the broad shadows of the great pep- 
 per-trees bordering the drive. Among the 
 glossy foliage of the long ranks of orange-trees 
 the fruit was beginning to mellow into spheres 
 of gold. The house itself, with all the signs of 
 taste and opulence, had never impressed her as 
 looking 90 attractive as it did in contrast to 
 the rude dwelling of the Ashleighs. In the 
 long, shaded dining-room the table was set 
 for lunch with snowy linen, delicate china, lus- 
 cious fruits and other delicacies. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove, looking rather anxious, sat 
 awaiting them. 
 
 " You have been a long time gone," she said 
 a little querulously. " Bruce took Nettie over 
 to the Croftons to spend the day, and I thought 
 I should have to sit down to luncheon alone." 
 
 " I wish you had been with us, dear auntie," 
 said Ada, as she took her place at the table 
 beside her, while Hugh took his brother's seat 
 at the head of the table. " We have had a 
 beautiful service, and Hugh \\\\\ tell you what a 
 dear little church it is." 
 
 " Why — was Hugh at church with you ?" 
 
 There was a look of surprise, half painful, 
 half pleasurable, in the mother's face. She was 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. qq 
 
 ♦ 
 devoted to all her children, but Hugh was 
 perhaps her favorite child, the most responsive 
 to his mother's affection. 
 
 "Why, Hughie ! I wish I had been with 
 you." And then she said, half to herself, " It 
 is years since I was at church." 
 
 Ada was unspeakably touched by her aunt's 
 look and words. 
 
 " You will come with us next time, auntie," 
 she said tenderly ; "it will be a happy, happy 
 day for me when we go together." 
 
 " But Bruce — '' faltered Mrs. Musgrove. 
 
 " Who knows but we shall conquer Bruce 
 himself," said Ada, almost gayly, encouraged by 
 success to be unreasonably sanguine. 
 
 The three had a pleasant afternoon together. 
 Hugh admired and liked his cousin so much, 
 that he was content to give up his usual Sunday 
 afternoon excursion to spend it in her society ; 
 while Mrs. Musgrove was always happy with 
 her children. 
 
 They sat under the live-oak, as Ada had done 
 alone, and Hugh realized, as he had never done 
 before, that there was a special beauty and 
 peace about his home on Sunday. 
 
 Ada proposed that Hugh should read some- 
 thing to his mother and herself, and ran into 
 the house for a book which she thought would 
 
lOO THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 interest, and might influence, the young man — 
 the " Life of Charles Kingsley." 
 
 Hugh was a good reader, though not a prac- 
 ticed one, and soon the story of that remarkable 
 life mastered his attention so completely that 
 he read with entire unconsciousness of self. It 
 was the first book of the kind he had ever read, 
 and one which of his own choice he would not 
 have thought of reading ; but the personal in- 
 fluence of Kingsley — that intense nature which 
 touched so wide a circle by the force of his 
 strong human sympathies — seemed even in the 
 recital to lay hold of Hugh, and he read on with 
 a zest far exceeding Ada's hopes. 
 
 The shadows began to lengthen before he 
 laid down the book, and then only at his 
 mother's suggestion. 
 
 " Hugh, you are a fine reader," said Ada, with 
 enthusiasm. " I never enjoyed Kingsley so 
 much before." 
 
 " A noble life, is it not .' " 
 
 Hugh's eyes were bright with a warm inter- 
 est. He had passed into a range of thought 
 and feeling altogether new. 
 
 " A man among men ! " he exclaimed. " I 
 never realized that our present world could 
 produce such people ! " 
 
 " Ah, but it can ! " sai^i Ada, her face bright- 
 
THE MUSCROVE RANCH. loi 
 
 ening as she spoke, " there are not a few such 
 lives that we may read of, Hugh, and how 
 many more that only God knows of!— Hves of 
 a perfect self-sacrifice, a noble devotion, which 
 can have but one source ! " 
 
 " Auntie," she continued, turning to Mrs. 
 Musgrove, " I have been wanting to speak to 
 you about Mr. Ashleigh and his wife. You may 
 think it strange that I should feel such a deep 
 interest in them already, but it is because I 
 have a firm conviction that theirs are such lives 
 as I was speaking of" 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove, with a look of awakened in- 
 terest, began to question her niece, and Ada 
 answered eagerly. 
 
 She was sitting on a low garden seat, and the 
 sun, very near its setting now, threw a soft 
 glow over her fair, expressive face. She might 
 have set for a picture of Charity, as she ex- 
 tended her shapely hands, with an unconsci- 
 ously pleading gesture; and Hugh thought his 
 cousin was growing prettier every day. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It was just then that the sound of laughter 
 and the clatter of horses' feet broke upon the 
 evening stillness. Bruce and Nettie, with Miss 
 Crofton and her brother, rode at a hand-gallop 
 up the avenue. As they approached the group 
 under the live-oak, Bruce grew suddenly silent. 
 He had an eye for pictyresque effects, and it 
 may have been that he was struck with the pic- 
 ture — his mother with her soft, white hair and 
 gentle face, thrown into relief by her dress of 
 some rich, subdued color ; Hugh reclining at 
 her feet, his face turned admiringly towards his 
 cousin; and Ada herself in her dress of simple 
 white with the sunlight on her. 
 
 " Quite idyllic, is it not .-' " said Miss Crofton 
 in her pretty mocking voice, but Bruce's an- 
 swer, if he made any, was lost in the bustle of 
 dismounting. 
 
 " We have brought Louise and Carl back to 
 dinner, mother," said Nettie, as she stooped to 
 give her mother a little kiss. Both the lady- 
 equestrians were looking their best in their be- 
 coming habits. 
 
 I02 
 
THE MUSCKCVE RANCH. 1 03 
 
 " Always glad to see you, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Musgrove, with cheerful hospitality, giving 
 her hand to Miss Crofton, who also kissed her 
 with much demonstration of affection, and then 
 somewhat coldly shook hands with Ada. 
 
 Carl Crofton was tall and handsome, like his 
 sister, and a devoted admirer of Nettie. 
 
 Ada waited in vain for a glance or word from 
 Bruce. Having helped Miss Crofton to dis- 
 mount, he had taken her horse with his own to 
 the stables, and his cousin did not see him again 
 till dinner. 
 
 Miss Crofton sat beside him and quite com- 
 manded his attention during the meal. She 
 was full of vivacity, clever and gay, and certainly 
 attractive; and Bruce, who was generally rather 
 taciturn, talked more than Ada had yet heard 
 him. The conversation turned chiefly on per- 
 sons and events of local interest, with a running 
 fire of amusing, often satirical, comment from 
 Miss Crofton. Ada sat for the most part silent ; 
 the conversation had not much interest for her, 
 and she would have liked to retire to her own 
 room when the party adjourned to the drawing- 
 room, but her aunt took her arm. 
 
 "Are you not well, my dear.''" she asked 
 affectionately ; and Ada had to answer that she 
 was, and so had no excuse for withdraiving. 
 
I04 I'l^E. MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 The young people gathered about the piano, 
 and, at Brace's request, Miss Crofton sang. Her 
 voice was powerful and well trained, and she 
 sang, with perfect self-possession, some rather 
 showy songs. 
 
 Ada had never been accustomed to secular 
 music on Sundays, and could not enjoy it. Song 
 after song Miss Crofton sang, most of them 
 specially for Bruce, but at last she rose from the 
 piano, and Hugh asked Ada to sing, and, when 
 she declined, gayly insisted. Unwillingly she 
 took her seat at the instrument, and ran her 
 fingers softly over the keys. She would sing 
 nothing secular, and she felt that sacred music 
 must seem out of place here. 
 
 At last her pure, cultured voice began that 
 beautiful and touching hymn, " Lead, kindly 
 Light," and a strange silence fell upon them all. 
 Bruce had strolled to an open window. For 
 the first time that evening he was alone. The 
 moonlight lay silver white upon the garden, and 
 the evening air came to him freighted with the 
 perfume of violets, of which there was a large 
 bed in the shelter of the house. The beautiful 
 melody and touching words seemed to blend 
 with the moonlight and perfume, and, in spite 
 of the harshness of his feeling towards Ada, 
 and his boasted lack of sympathy with the sen- 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 105 
 
 timent of the hymn, he listened spell-bound. 
 He listened until, with the last lovely words, 
 
 ' ' And with the morn those angel faces smile, 
 Which I have loved long since and lost awhile," 
 
 sung with intense, pathetic feeling, the tender 
 tones had ceased. His was the only voice that 
 did not say anything in praise of the singer. 
 Mrs. Musgrove and Hugh expressed their de- 
 light, Nettie her surprise. 
 
 " I really did not know that you could sing 
 like that, Ada," she said. 
 
 Young Crofton murmured something polite, 
 while his sister declared that Miss Selwyn was 
 really quite dramatic in her style. Hugh urged 
 his cousin to sing again, but she begged to be 
 excused. 
 
 There was no more music after that, and the 
 conversation was not quite so lively as before. 
 Miss Crofton asked Bruce to show her some 
 plans he had been drawing of a new town which 
 some enterprising land-owners of the Valley 
 were talking of founding, Bruce as usual taking 
 the lead in the new scheme. He had spoken of 
 it to Ada, owning that it was his darling pro- 
 ject, and had promised to show her the plans, but 
 that was before the coolness which had sprung 
 up between them, and which she, for her part, 
 
I06 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 had tried in vain to overcome. He got the 
 drawings now, at Miss Crofton's request, and 
 placed a lamp on a little table apart, that she 
 might the better examine them. 
 
 Was it mere forgetfulness or an intentional 
 omission, Ada wondered, that he did not ask 
 his cousin to join them ? She glanced once at 
 the two heads bending over the papers, and then 
 joined her aunt, who was sitting on a distant 
 sofa. 
 
 " I want to say a little more about the Ash- 
 leighs," said Ada, "while we can have a chat 
 to ourselves. She is in a wretched state of health, 
 and looks as if she might not live much longer. 
 But you know. Auntie, what careful treatment 
 and nourishment will do. With these she might 
 be spared to her husband for years to come — 
 without them, he will lose her soon. And, 
 Auntie, they are everything to each other." 
 
 " Poor things," said Mrs. Musgrove compas- 
 sionately ; " my dear, what can I do for them .''" 
 " Ah, so much I you have such an abundance I 
 a larder overflowing with good things, while 
 they, I am certain, have the poorest and most 
 meagre food. Then there is the kindness, the 
 personal kindness that is so sweet, so comfort- 
 ing, and of which so little is shown them by 
 those who could do so most easily. Auntie, 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 107 
 
 you must surely know how it pains me to feel 
 that I am vexing Bruce, but I nmst follow the 
 dictates of my conscience. It is not merely 
 that my heart is touched by what I have seen 
 of Mr. Ashleigh and his wife, but that I am con- 
 strained, yes, I am constrained to be faithful to 
 the Church ; and being so includes my loving 
 interest and care for her clergy. I know I may 
 speak freely to you. You will not be angry 
 with me. You almost dread the thought of do- 
 ing what Bruce disapproves, but remember you 
 have to answer for yourself And you are his 
 mother ; it is j)/o«, and not Bruce, who should be 
 an authority in such matters." 
 
 " Yes, you are right, of course," faltered Mrs. 
 Musgrove, "but, my dear child, I have always 
 relied on him so much." 
 
 " Yes, and in many ways rightly, but there 
 are things in which you cannot rely upon him. 
 You must not let him stand between you and 
 your duty. And of this I am sure : in the end 
 he will respect you the more for doing what you 
 feel to be right." 
 
 In her earnestness Ada had laid her hand 
 upon Mrs. Musgrove's arm, and her voice, 
 though so low that only her aunt could hear 
 her words, reached Bruce's ear, as he bent over 
 his drawings with Miss Crofton, at the other 
 
108 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 end of the long room. He looked up and saw 
 the fair, pleading face, as he had seen it at sun- 
 set under the live-oak. And again a feeling 
 for which he could not account, a sharp sense 
 of pain, yet with an underlying joy, passed 
 through and through him. Ada was all un- 
 conscious, but Miss Crofton had followed Bruce's 
 glance, and noted that he seemed for a moment 
 to lose his interest in the darling project which 
 had so strongly aroused her own. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Musgrove, with a sigh, " I 
 am afraid I have made idols of my children, or, 
 at least, I have lost sight of any other duties in 
 living for them." 
 
 She spoke so meekly and penitently that the 
 tears came to her niece's eyes. 
 
 " It looks so presumptuous in me," she said 
 tenderly, " to speak to you as I do, but I can- 
 not help it. Auntie. You will forgive me, I 
 know. It is because I love you so well and 
 know how good you arc, that I do so long " — 
 her 'voice failed her as she leaned her head 
 against her aunt's shoulder — " I do so long to 
 have you all that our dear Lord meant you 
 to be." 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove slipped her arm about the girl's 
 waist and kissed her fondly. 
 
 " Pray for me, my child," she whispered. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 109 
 
 That was all, but the words were full of prom- 
 ise. 
 
 The evening had worn away : Hugh, with his 
 sister and Carl Crofton, had been strolling about 
 in the moonlight and had just come in from the 
 veranda. 
 
 "I shall be jealous, Mammie," said Nettie ; 
 " you and Ada are always making love to each 
 other, and your only daughter is left out in the 
 cold." 
 
 Miss Crofton had at last torn herself away 
 from the engrossing drawings, and had realized 
 the lateness of the hour. 
 
 " Poor Nettie !" she said, caressingly, laying 
 her hand on her friend's shoulder ; " you must 
 come to me to be comforted ! I fear Miss Sel- 
 wyn is supplanting you in your mother's affec- 
 tions." 
 
 The words were jestingly said, and yet Ada 
 felt that they contained a sting. 
 
 " That is a terrible accusation," Miss Crofton, 
 she said, half seriously. " I must not come to 
 you for a character." 
 
 " There will be no need," said Hugh ; " the 
 Musgrove Ranch will give you a character." 
 
 " Thank you, Hugh ! I know I have you for 
 a champion," said Ada, laughingly extending 
 her hand to her cousin, who, dropping on one 
 
I I o THE MUSGRO VE RANCH. 
 
 knee in a dramatic manner, carried it to his 
 lips. 
 
 " See, Mr. Musgrove," said Miss Crofton, 
 stepping to one side, " is not that a pretty tab- 
 leau .? What shall we call it ? the Knight and 
 the Damosel, or what .'" 
 
 Bruce looked at the group with a certain dis- 
 pleasure in his eyes, but only laughed without 
 replying. 
 
 The horses had been brought round, and 
 having made her graceful adieus and reminded 
 Bruce of an appointment with her father, Miss 
 Crofton took her departure. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Bruce had been absent for several days ; in 
 fact, Ada had not seen him since the evening 
 on which Miss Crofton and her brother had 
 dined at the ranch. His cousin missed him ; 
 there was no denying that Hfe at the ranch lost 
 in interest in the absence of the eldest son. 
 His strong, terse sayings were missed at the 
 family table ; there was a force and energy 
 about him which made him, even in his least 
 genial moods, really the centre of thought and 
 action in his home. 
 
 And yet Ada was not unwilling that he 
 should be absent, for if life lost somewhat of its 
 interest, it was at least more peaceful, and she 
 was not continually reminded by Bruce's cold 
 and formal manner to herself that she had for- 
 feited his favor. 
 
 Had she not possessed an affectionate and 
 peace-loving nature, there might have been a 
 certain satisfaction in the consciousness that 
 she had won a signal victory over the autocra- 
 tic Bruce, and had even emancipated Hugh 
 I I I 
 
I 12 THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 from his brother's hitherto unquestioned au- 
 thority, but, being what she was, Ada could 
 only keenly regret the necessity for her action. 
 
 Hugh, having broken what he termed his 
 leading-strings, was willing to make the best 
 use of his new-found freedom, while Mrs. Mus- 
 grove, deeply impressed by what Ada had told 
 her of the Ashleighs, and with awakened con- 
 sciousness of her sad remissness in the past, 
 was anxious in some measure to atone for it ; 
 and Bruce's absence was opportune, since she 
 had not to encounter his satire or displeasure. 
 
 It was not Ada, but her aunt, who first pro- 
 posed that Hugh should drive them over to 
 Caliente. She wished to be introduced to 
 the Ashleighs. Nettie opened wide her pretty 
 eyes at such a proposition ; under her bright, 
 trifling manner there was a large amount of 
 selfishness, which made it \'ery hard to touch 
 her in things unconnected with herself 
 
 " Why, mother !" she exclaimed, " what has 
 come over you } What in the name of com- 
 mon sense do you want to know them for .''" 
 
 The painful flush which Ada had seen before, 
 stole over her aunt's face, but she answered in 
 a tone which was new to her petted daughter. 
 
 "You are not speaking to me a-i you ouyht, 
 Nettie. You have nu right to use iuch Ian- 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. i j 3 
 
 guage about anything I may think it right 
 to do." 
 
 It was Nettie's turn to flush now, and tears 
 of vexation came into her eyes. 
 
 " Yes," she pouted, " Louise Crofton was 
 quite right when she said that Ada was putting 
 me in the background. Whatever she says or 
 does is right. But we shall see what Bruce 
 thinks of your making friends with the Ash- 
 leighs," she added ; " you would not visit them 
 if he were at home !" 
 
 It was a revelation of Nettie's disposition for 
 which Ada was not prepared, and her look of 
 surprise added fuel to Nettie's indignation. 
 
 " It is not fair to Bruce," she said, " that you 
 should do what he disapproves of, to please 
 Ada. I shall tell him, when he comes back, 
 that I did all I could to prevent it." 
 
 And then she rose from her seat and march- 
 ed out of the room. 
 
 " Don't trouble about her," said Hugh to 
 both the ladies. " You did not know, Ada, that 
 Nettie was such a little termagant. The fact 
 is," he added, sententiously, "we have all had 
 our own way a little too much." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Musgrove, sadly, " I have 
 been a very weak mother, my dear." 
 
 " You have been the best httle mother," said 
 
114 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 her son affectionately, putting his arm about 
 her, "and we ought all to have turned out 
 model children." 
 
 But Mrs. Musgrove shook her head sadly. 
 
 " Go and order the carriage, Hugh,'' she 
 said, with more decision of manner than Ada 
 had ever noticed in her. "Nettie must see 
 that she cannot turn me from what I feel to be 
 right." 
 
 So the carriage was brought, and Nettie, with 
 indignant eyes, watched the departure. 
 
 She was still nursing her grievance, though 
 several hours had elapsed, and feeling more in- 
 jured than perhaps ever before in her short, 
 careless life, when Bruce unexpectedly re- 
 turned. 
 
 He had been camping with a party of sur- 
 veyors and others of his acquaintance on the 
 site of the proposed new town, and the days 
 had been spent in projecting and marking out 
 the future streets and surveying the surround- 
 ing land. 
 
 Although one of the youngest in the party, 
 he had been constantly referred to and his sug- 
 gestions sought and followed. All this, and the 
 free, careless life, the rides hither and thither 
 on swift Aleppo, the nights under the stars 
 (for Bruce despised the shelter of a tent), with 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 115 
 
 the cool breeze creeping past him and stirring 
 his hair as with the touch of invisible fingers, 
 was just what Bruce needed to restore him to 
 his normal condition, which Ada, in more ways 
 than one, had disturbed. With all the strength 
 of his strong will he was putting her away from 
 him, as a perplexing, not to say harassing, sub- 
 ject, and was succeeding fairly well. Yet, to 
 say the truth, in those still, starlight nights, 
 when the camp-fires had died down and his 
 companions were asleep, thoughts of his firm 
 and gentle cousin would sometimes assert 
 themselves. Sometimes even the breeze would 
 seem to whisper words that she had spoken, 
 even taking the tone of her voice. Once as he 
 lay awake, in the deep hush of midnight, the 
 waning moon hanging low in the west and the 
 great solemn stars slowly moving in their 
 courses overhead, Ada's pure, clear-cut face, 
 with that strange look of compassion, seemed 
 to bend out of the darkness. 
 
 " Have you put science in the place of God, 
 Bruce .'' " 
 
 Had he indeed put God out of his life .' Were 
 the motives which made his cousin's life what 
 it was, purely imaginary .'' They were real 
 enough to her ; they were real enough to 
 mold her character into something vastly 
 
I I 6 THE MUSGROVE RAKCH. 
 
 different from that of any other person whom 
 he knew. 
 
 Bruce did not allov/ himself to follow a train 
 of such thoughts. He had, he said to himself, 
 long since become emancipated from the whole 
 confusion of man-made creeds. Nature and her 
 hand - maid, Science, were enough for him, 
 enough to occupy all the powers of his mind, to 
 satisfy every desire and ambition of his being. 
 And he wrapped himself in his camping blan- 
 ket, resolutely closing his eyes to the vision of 
 Ada's pleading face and all that it suggested. 
 
 The site of the proposed town was some five 
 or six miles from Miss Crofton's home, and 
 every few days she rode over with her father, 
 who was also interested in the scheme ; her 
 brother being one of the camping party. 
 
 Very handsome looked Miss Crofton, with 
 a pretty flush on her cheeks and a bright recog- 
 nition in her eyes whenever she discovered 
 Bruce among the little crowd of surveyors and 
 projectors. Her interest never flagged in the 
 scheme, and Bruce had to point out to her the 
 whole town, as it was to be. It was so much 
 more satisfactory than merely seeing it on 
 paper, she declared. iViszc the whole thing was 
 clear to her. 
 
 " Have you decided on the name, Mr. Mus- 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. \ I 7 
 
 grove ? " she asked, one day, as the party were 
 seated at luncheon, in the shade of some live- 
 oaks. She had brought over a basket of vari- 
 ous delicacies, as an addition to their camping 
 fare, and all were in high good humor. 
 
 " No," replied Bruce ; " it is rather a serious 
 matter, this naming our future metropolis. I 
 think, myself, that there is a great deal in a 
 name, the poet notwithstanding." 
 
 " Wouldn't Musgrove be a well-sounding 
 name .■' " she said, so softly that only Bruce 
 caught the words. 
 
 She saw the color rise to his face, and knew 
 that she had touched him in a vulnerable point. 
 
 " From your lips," he answered, gallantly, 
 " but I am not so arrogant as to suppose that 
 my name should be the one chosen; I am only 
 one of many equally interested." 
 
 " But not equally influential," she said, still in 
 the same tone of subtle flattery. 
 
 " Let me propose it." 
 
 " No, no, I beg you," he said hastily. 
 
 If the town were to be named after him, the 
 proposition must come from some of those as- 
 .sociated with him in the enterprise. 
 
 Yet the suggestion had been pleasant and 
 flattering, and Miss Crofton's lips had been the 
 first to utter it. 
 
I 1 8 THE MVSGRUVE KAXCH. 
 
 It was that very afternoon that Bruce, re- 
 membering some home affairs which might pos- 
 sibly have been neglected by Hugh, determined 
 to ride over to the ranch and spend the night 
 there. 
 
 It was a long ride even on so fleet a steed as 
 Aleppo, and the afternoon was almost cpent 
 when the confines of the Musgrove Ranch came 
 in sight. Bruce's mind had been busy with a 
 thousand things as he galloped along, over 
 mile after mile of open country. He loved to 
 weave plans for the future, to feed his ambition 
 with bold projects w hich should result in wealth 
 and power and honor, and the swift motion of 
 his horse, and the strong breeze from the ocean 
 which swept over the upland, quickened his 
 brain and pulses. 
 
 He would have haughtily denied that the an- 
 ticipation of meeting his stubborn little cousin 
 had the remotest connection with his pleasur- 
 able excitement. When he reached the house 
 he sprang from his horse and threw the reins 
 with a friendly nod to Sandy, who had spied his 
 young master afar off. 
 
 " Every one away, Sandy .'' " he asked, for 
 both the veranda and the shade of the live- 
 oak were deserted. 
 
 " Miss Nettie is home, sir, but the Mistress 
 
THE MUS GROVE RANCH. 
 
 119 
 
 and the young lady and Master Hugh went out 
 driving. I'm thinking they're late." 
 
 "Where are you, Nettie .■' " called Bruce, in 
 his ringing, imperious voice, and Nettie emerg- 
 ed from the drawing-room. 
 
 As I said, she had been nursing her grievance, 
 and. still felt injured and sullen, for had she not 
 spent a long solitary afternoon } 
 
 " I'm glad you have come back, Bruce," she 
 said. " I hope you have come to stay. Things 
 don't seem to go on as they should when you 
 are not at home." 
 
 Nettie seldom condescended to compliment 
 her brother, and Bruce looked a little amused 
 as he pinched her cheek. 
 
 " I've only come to stay till to-morrow. It 
 will take anothe-r week or two to get things 
 underway up there. What has been going 
 wrong .■■ 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Nettie had at all times a slight tendency to 
 mischief, but to-day it had been fanned into 
 something more, and she had never practiced 
 the difficult art of self-control. 
 
 " Only that mother seems to be turned 
 round in the most unaccountable manner, and 
 lets Ada manage her as if her will was law." 
 
 " And how has she been exercising it ? " 
 asked Bruce, carelessly enough, but the pleas- 
 ant ring had gone out of his voice. 
 
 " Why, you might suppose that it was some- 
 thing about the Ashleighs. You know Ada is 
 quite infatuated with them, and now she has 
 chosen to take mother over to see them. I said 
 that it was unfair to )'ou, while you were away, 
 to do what would annoy you so much, but they 
 
 W02lld go." 
 
 Bruce made no reply. His silence was so 
 ominous that Nettie felt a little frightened. 
 
 " Yes, I did what I could to prevent it," she 
 said, nervously, " but Louise was quite right : 
 Ada is everything with mother now, and I am 
 nothing." 
 
 I 20 
 
THE MUSGRO ! E RANCH. \2\ 
 
 Still no response from Bruce. 
 
 " Why don't you speak, Bruce ?" said his 
 sister, impatiently. 
 
 "What do you want me to say ?" he replied, 
 in his harshest tones. " You know without my 
 telling you how gratifying your news is; " and 
 he turned away and strode out of the house. 
 
 If Nettie had felt aggrieved and forlorn before 
 Bruce's arrival, she felt tenfold so now. Her 
 brother's contemptuous harshness made her 
 cup overflow, and she sat down in the solitary, 
 dusky drawing-room and had a long, m.iserable 
 cry all to herself She could hear Bruce strid- 
 ing to and fro on the veranda. She knew well 
 that she had succeeded in raising a storm, and 
 gradually began to fear that it was more for- 
 midable than she had intended ; she even be- 
 gan to look forward with some apprehension to 
 the return of the others from Caliente. 
 
 It was strange that they had not yet re- 
 turned, for night was closing in, and Mrs. Mus- 
 grove disliked driving after dark. 
 
 At last, just as Nettie had worked herself 
 into a state of nervous excitemiCnt, the carriage 
 drove up. 
 
 "Hello, Bruce!" 
 
 Hugh had descried his brother's tall form on 
 the veranda, and, though himself somewhat 
 
12 2 THE MUSGROVE RA .VCff. 
 
 apprehensive of an unpleasant reception, was 
 not sorry to see him, and, as he would have 
 said, get things into shape as soon as possible. 
 
 " Well, Bruce," said Mrs. Musgrove, nervous- 
 ly, as her eldest son, without much alacrity, 
 approached and helped her to alight, " when 
 did you come home V 
 
 " An hour or two ago," he answered coldly, 
 scarcely returning the kiss with which she 
 greeted him. And then he stood for a moment 
 waiting for Ada to alight. It had grown so 
 dark that he could not see the interior of the 
 carriage. Hugh had jumped down from the 
 driver's seat. 
 
 " We have left Ada at Caliente," he said, and 
 then added hurriedly, " I may as well tell you, 
 Bruce, that mother and I went over with her to 
 call on the Ashleighs. We found Mrs. Ash- 
 ieigh very ill, and Ada insisted on remaining 
 to nurse her, but she hopes to be back next 
 week." 
 
 Bruce's indignation had chiefly centered in 
 Ada. It was of her that he had thought, as he 
 had paced to and fro; of her utter disregard of 
 his strongly expressed feelings, of her deliber- 
 ate effort to influence his own family to act in 
 opposition to his wishes. It was the meeting 
 with her which he had anticipated with the in- 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 123 
 
 dignant determination, once for all, to express 
 his opinion of her course of action and of the 
 religion which led her to stir up dissension in 
 his family, fie felt his to be a righteous in- 
 dignation. He would receive her coldly, and 
 request her to have a conversation with him 
 alone that evening. He preferred rather to 
 speak with her alone than in the presence of 
 the others. He had pictured to himself how 
 she would look, how she would have to acknow- 
 ledge that even from her own standpoint she 
 was doing evil that good might come, and 
 perhaps, perhaps, if she were duly penitent, he 
 might forgive her. 
 
 And now — the feeling which Bruce experi- 
 enced was a strange, unreasonable disappoint- 
 ment, an angry disappointment, all the more 
 keen because it could not be expressed. 
 
 " I wish you joy of your new acquaintances," 
 he said, scornfully. " They must respect you, at 
 all events, for the family feeling which leads you 
 to make much of a man who has insulted your 
 brother." 
 
 Hugh had no opportunity to reply, for his 
 brother turned away abruptly. 
 
 It was the iirst time since Ada Selwyn's arriv- 
 al among them that the Musgrove family had 
 spent an evening without her, and it was strange 
 
124 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 what a blank her absence caused. The bright 
 face, with its look of ready sympathy, the friend- 
 ly, gentle voice, that had grown so familiar and 
 seemed like an added harmony, the ready wit, 
 never indulged at the expense of others, had 
 grown to be an influence sweet and wholesome 
 as sunshine, of whose value we often only be- 
 come conscious when it is withdrawn. 
 
 Dinner was a very silent meal. Mrs. Mus- 
 grove and Hugh had spoken with each other 
 on their drive homeward, and both felt now 
 that neither Bruce nor Nettie was in a mood 
 to listen to their changed views or the impres- 
 sions they had received. 
 
 Hugh addressed some questions to his brotlcr 
 about the new town, to which Bruce briefly re- 
 plied, and in his turn inquired if certain instruc- 
 tions of his had been carried out. The mother 
 and daughter did not exchange many words. 
 For the first time, Nettie saw something in her 
 mother's face which gave her a vague uneasi- 
 ness. Hitherto she had always, even when she 
 had deserved her mother's displeasure, been 
 absolutely sure of speedy pardon, and valued it, 
 accordingly, all too lightly. But to-night in 
 the gentle, saddened face she saw something 
 like an unspoken rebuke. 
 
 " I am going back in the morning, mother," 
 said Bruce, " and so will say good night." 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH 
 
 125 
 
 He had refrained from saying anything harsh 
 to her. It may have been that the same pre- 
 occupied expression which had puzzled Nettie 
 had its influence on him, or that the indigna- 
 tion against Ada had dominated him to the ex- 
 tent of making him overlook the delinquencies 
 of the others. After all, Ada was the head and 
 front of their offending. 
 
 " Good night, my son." Mrs. Musgrove lift- 
 ed her face to his and laid her hand lightly on 
 his shoulder. She kissed him, and, as he was 
 about to leave her, she said softly : 
 
 "Bruce, dear, don't leave your mother with 
 a feeling of anger in your heart. What I have 
 done was in obedience to what I felt was right." 
 
 Bruce waved his hand impatiently. Why, his 
 mother seemed to have borrowed Ada's very 
 tone and words. 
 
 "I am not angry, mother,'' he said, half con- 
 temptuously; "it is your own look-out if you 
 choose to be led blind-fold by a girl's whims 
 and fancies ; only you can hardly expect me to 
 sympathize with you in your new departure." 
 
 " Ada is not a girl of whims and fancies, and 
 you know it, Bruce." 
 
 It was Hugh's voice, speaking warmly and 
 indignantly. He had just entered the room in 
 time to catch Bruce's reply to his mother. 
 
126 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " Don't excite yourself," said Bruce, in his 
 coldest tones. " I am not disposed to argue the 
 point. We each have our own views on the 
 matter. You are welcome to yours. Good 
 night." 
 
 " It is too bad that Bruce should presume to 
 express such an opinion of Ada. He is arro- 
 gant—" 
 
 " Hugh, Hugh ! " said his mother, imploring- 
 ly, " Ada would be the last to wish you to 
 quarrel with Bruce about her" ; and Hugh had 
 to admit the truth of the assertion. 
 
 " It will all ccme right, dear," she went on ; 
 " since I have begun to see my duty, I have 
 faith to believe that God will help me to do it." 
 
 On her way to her own room that night Mrs. 
 Musgrove entered her daughter's. Nettie was 
 lying asleep, her pretty face a little flushed, and 
 the frown that had spoiled it through the day 
 not yet quite smoothed out. A novel, not of 
 the highest type, lay by her pillow. She had 
 read herself to sleep, and the lamp burned be- 
 side her. Shading her eyes from the light, the 
 mother stood, looking down upon her child, 
 and as she looked, tears, heavy, burning tears, 
 dropped one by one. 
 
 Why was not this fair, young, only daughter 
 of hers what Ada was .'' Where was the sweet 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 127 
 
 unselfishness, the calm and steadfast devotion 
 to duty, the child - like, yet exalted faith ? 
 True, Ada, was a few years her senior, but all 
 these were fruits of an almost life-long growth. 
 
 It was a heart-searching sermon which the 
 young unconscious sleeper was preaching to 
 the mother. 
 
 The thought of Ada at that hour, minister- 
 ing with skillful hand and loving heart to a 
 helpless sufferer, came to deepen the impres- 
 sion of her own child's absolute selfishness, of 
 the lack of any aims or motives in her life be- 
 yond the careless enjoyment of the passing 
 hour. 
 
 But, we may well believe, it was with no 
 censure of her beloved child that the mother 
 stood gazing at her ; it was, rather, with a pro- 
 found sense of her own failure in bringing up 
 the children whom God had given her, as heirs 
 of an immortal heritage, as those who must 
 give account of the life which had been be- 
 stowed upon them. 
 
 Overcome by emotion, she sank at last upon 
 her knees, with a voiceless prayer for grace 
 and strength for the future. Then laying her 
 face beside Nettie's on the pillow, she softly 
 kissed her, leaving a mother's blessing when 
 she went away. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TlJAT night the shadow of death seemed 
 resting on the little parsonage at Caliente. 
 But it was not a horror of great darkness to the 
 stricken heart of Eustace Ashleigh. He was 
 ready,_if God willed it so, to yield up his beloved 
 without a murmur, yet — if the cup might pass 
 from him ! 
 
 How passionately Ada had prayed that 
 night. Her whole heart went out to them, and 
 they both felt the unspeakable comfort of a 
 deep, human sympathy. 
 
 When Ada, with her aunt and cousin, had 
 arrived at the parsonage, they found Mrs. Ash- 
 leigh in a most critical condition. A severe 
 hemorrhage had completel}' prostrated her, and 
 she could only look a tender welcome to Ada, 
 as she approached her bed-side. In a few 
 minutes afterwards Hugh had driven off, as fast 
 as his horses could carry him, to obtain the 
 services of a skillful physician who resided at 
 the nearest town, some ten miles distant, and 
 Mrs. Musgrove was talking to Mr. Ashleigh 
 128 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 129 
 
 with the kindly interest of an old friend, while 
 Ada had constituted herself nurse, and was 
 moving noiselessly about the sick-room, put- 
 ting things in order with a magical touch, and 
 making arrangements for the invalid's comfort. 
 
 Some hours elapsed before Hugh's return 
 with the doctor. The afternoon was wearing 
 away, and Mrs. Musgrove felt that they must 
 set out on their return, but Ada had already 
 come to the conclusion that her place, for the 
 present, was with those who needed her so 
 sorely. 
 
 " Hugh will bring me some things to-mor- 
 row,'' she said, " when he comes with what you 
 are going to send. I hope you will miss me a 
 little." And she kissed her aunt good-bye, and 
 waved her hand from the doorway as Hugh 
 drove off. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove had not attempted to dis- 
 suade her niece from her purpose, for that the 
 need was incontestable, and that she had made 
 up her mind, was evident. 
 
 The utmost care was needed, the doctor had 
 said, and the strictest adherence to his direc- 
 tions. With these, partial recovery, at least, 
 was quite possible, even probable. 
 
 Towards evening hushed footsteps came and 
 went about the parsonage, for the news of 
 
130 THE MUSGROVE RANCrr. 
 
 Mrs. Ashleigh's illness had got abroad, and 
 among the scattered church people were 
 those who had begun to realize the devotion ot 
 their pastor and his sweet wife, and they came 
 with sympathy, if nothing more, and some with 
 anxious offers of help. 
 
 Ada dismissed them with gentle "words of 
 thanks, and promises, in case of need, to claim 
 their assistance. Then night settled down, 
 and in this quiet outskirt of the town there was 
 little or nothing to disturb the invalid, as she 
 lay motionless upon her pillows, oftenest with 
 closed eyes, though not asleep. 
 
 The first half of the night Mr. Aslileigh had 
 insisted upon watching, promising iVda to 
 awake her after midnight ; when, lefreshed 
 with a few hoars' sleep, she took his place till 
 morning. 
 
 In the " small hours" Mrs. Ashleigh fell into 
 a quiet slumber, which Ada knew to be the best 
 medicine. And then the }-oung girl moved the 
 curtain a little, that she might see the dawn 
 and sunrise. It was not the first time that she 
 had watched through a night by a sick-bed, 
 sometimes by the sick-bed of those nearest to 
 her heart. This slow breaking of the dawn, 
 after a night so spent, how strange and sad it 
 Seems ! All the world lies in slumber ; only 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 131 
 
 the watchers with their sorrow are awake to 
 see that first mysterious change from darkness 
 to light, so cold and chill at first, that it makes 
 common things look weird and unfamiliar. 
 
 Ada stood and watched that daily miracle 
 of the returning light ; and solemn thoughts 
 of death, the dark threshold of the life to come, 
 stirred in her mind and made her young face 
 look grave and awe-struck as the first touch of 
 day fell on it. 
 
 Gradually the shadows melted away before 
 the growing light, and the low, tender twitter 
 of a bird close by the partially open window 
 came to her like a sweet message of endless 
 love. She turned to look at her patient ; Mrs. 
 Ashleigh was sleeping as peacefully as a child, 
 with faint but regular breathings, and Ada, 
 with a thrill of thankfulness, recognized that 
 the symptoms were even more favorable than 
 the doctor had anticipated. 
 
 She said her morning prayer by the bed-side, 
 and then stole softly out into the garden, to 
 breathe for a few moments its early fragrance. 
 
 The flowers were beginning to clothe them- 
 selves in divers colors, and the birds seemed to 
 be trying their separate notes, before striking 
 into one grand chorus of delight. 
 
 Ada walked down the garden path to the 
 
132 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 little gate in the fence which inclosed the 
 parsonage garden, and, as she stood, leaning 
 against it, the far-off sound of a horse's feet 
 struck upon her ear. Very faintly at first, as 
 if at a great distance, then nearer and louder, 
 and at last, watching with a half-conscious ex- 
 pectancy for this early rider, Ada became 
 aware of a familiar form, and — yes, it was 
 Bruce himself, who was riding along the road 
 that passed the parsonage. 
 
 In her first gladness at the sight of him, his 
 cousin did not ask whether his being there had 
 any connection with herself She only saw 
 that it was Bruce, whom she had not seen for 
 what seemed a long time. Of course she must 
 speak to him. 
 
 In one hand she held a white rose or two, 
 with the other she opened the garden-gate and 
 stood awaiting him. 
 
 Caliente does net lie in a direct line from the 
 Musgrove Ranch to the new town, and when 
 Bruce started from his home at daybreak he 
 had no intention of diverging towards a place 
 which of late had had for him only unpleasant 
 associations ; still less had he the faintest 
 thought of mcctinL,' Ada at such an hour, nor 
 would such a probability have led him to change 
 his route ; on the contrar)- he would not, of his 
 own will, have met his cousin. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 133 
 
 And yet — so strangely inconsistent are we 
 mortals — here he found himself, and here, 
 standing in his way, with a smile of welcome 
 on her sweet face, was Ada. 
 
 In the confusion of feeling which her presence 
 caused him he hardly knew what he did. Alep- 
 po recognized her too, for as his master reined 
 him in, the beautiful creature stooped his head 
 as if waiting for a caress from the white hand 
 of his friend. 
 
 " Have you been at home Bruce .' " she ask- 
 ed. "I am so glad that I happened to be up and 
 out to see you for a moment, for, I suppose, you 
 were not coming to see me .'' " 
 
 " No, I had no thought of seeing you at such 
 an hour." 
 
 " Did you — know that I was here } " 
 
 " Yes, I spent last night at the ranch, and 
 heard of your taking up the office of a good 
 Samaritan." 
 
 If Bruce had intended a sneer he had not 
 succeeded as well as usual. There was some- 
 thing in the gentle face, pale with the night 
 watching, which disarmed him. 
 
 " I wish I could," she said. 
 
 " Would you nurse a heathen like myself, if 
 I were sick.?" he asked, wondering at himself 
 as he did so. 
 
134 ^'-^-^ MUSGKOVE RANCH. 
 
 " If you would let me," she answered, " only 
 too gladly." 
 
 Then there was a moment's silence between 
 them, she resting the hand that held the white 
 roses on Aleppo's neck. 
 
 " I must go now," she said. " Mrs. Ashleigh 
 is very, very ill." 
 
 " And you, I suppose, are doing your best to 
 make yourself ill also. You look as if you 
 needed nursing yourself! " and then he mut- 
 tered to himself, " Absurd ! " 
 
 " I never felt better, only a little sleepy. 
 Good-bye, dear, beautiful Aleppo. Good-bye, 
 Bruce." 
 
 " Good-bye, Ada." 
 
 She shook hands a little shyly with him and 
 he galloped off, turning his head once to see 
 her disappear within the parsonage. 
 
 Mile after mile through the sweet morning 
 air galloped Aleppo, and his master was so lost 
 in thought that he was scarcely conscious of 
 the road he traveled. His indignation of the 
 previous night was abated, but he felt angry 
 with himself. He felt that he had not shown 
 his cousin how thoroughly she had offended 
 him, by forming a friendship with the Ash- 
 leighs. It was an absurdity, this going to nurse 
 the clergyman's wife. Some neighbor, or a 
 hired nurse, might have been procured if needed. 
 
THE MUSGROVE A'.hVC//. 
 
 135 
 
 but Ada, a young, delicately nurtured girl — it 
 was only another proof of her unreasonable self- 
 will, of her utter disregard of his wishes. 
 
 Doubtless Aleppo wondered why his master 
 was so unreasonable as to urge him up a steep 
 incline, which he would rather have taken 
 leisurely, but Bruce felt as if he would have 
 flown, if he could, from the irritating thoughts 
 that pursued him. 
 
 He was glad when he came in sight of the 
 cluster of little white tents by the foot-hill. He 
 would have enough to engross his mind and 
 energies here, and there would be no room for 
 petty annoyances. 
 
 " Hullo, Musgrove ! back in time for break- 
 fast," shouted one of the party who was taking 
 his turn to prepare that meal, and was frying 
 " flap-jacks " over the fire which crackled and 
 flamed in the fire-place of rough stones, built 
 in a convenient locality. 
 
 " Yes," said Bruce, " I started before day- 
 break, and," looking at his watch, " Aleppo has 
 made good time. I warn you that I am hui- 
 
 gry." 
 
 " Glad to see you back, Musgrove," said an- 
 other, issuing from his tent. " Those railroad 
 men have sent us word that they are coming 
 over from Los Angeles, and we may hope, now 
 that you are here, to get things fixed up." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The coming of the railroad men meant a 
 great deal to the projectors of the new town. 
 It meant in all probability a large measure of 
 success in their undertaking. It meant, in fact, 
 a realization of what seemed, even to them- 
 selves, somewhat chimerical, for, at that time, 
 though only a very few years ago, people had 
 not the unlimited confidence in the future of 
 this wonderful land which they have now. 
 
 Bruce, though on the one hand the most 
 cautious, had been the most sanguine, and now, 
 when he heard of the advent of the railroad 
 men, his heart gave a throb of exultation. Yes, 
 if he could make them see things in the right 
 light — and he felt little doubt of succeeding in 
 this — the future of the yet unnamed town was 
 assured. 
 
 "Carl," he said to young Crofton, who had just 
 come into camp with his gun over his shoulder 
 and his game-bag filled with mountain-quail, 
 " do you think your sister, at such short notice, 
 would entertain these gentlemen, if I rode over 
 136 
 
THE MVSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 137 
 
 with them in the afternoon ? It is too far for 
 me to take them home, and she is always gra- 
 cious and hospitable." 
 
 " Not a doubt of it," replied the young man, 
 laughing; "any friends of yours, you know, will 
 be welcome." 
 
 " It seems almost imposing on her good- 
 nature," said Bruce, seemingly unconscious of 
 the implied compliment, " but it is desirable to 
 make the best impression, and to show them 
 what one of our homes can offer in culture and 
 resources." 
 
 " You are a long-headed Scotchman," said 
 the young man who was acting as cook, ad- 
 miringly. " Were you born on this side of the 
 ■water .? " 
 
 But Bruce was too much engrossed by the 
 matter in hand to do more than answer " yes," 
 abstractedly. 
 
 " Too Scotch to take a joke, however," mut- 
 tered the other, as Bruce strode away to confer 
 with some of the elders. 
 
 About noon a couple of carriages, filled with 
 portly, responsible looking gentlemen, arrived 
 at the camping-ground and were warmly wel- 
 comed. 
 
 It was Bruce who imperceptibly became the 
 chief speaker, and to whom the strangers grad- 
 
I3S THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 ually addressed themselves more and more, 
 evidently impressed by the experience and 
 sagacity, remarkable in so young a man, no less 
 than by his self-contained and somewhat 
 authoritative manner. 
 
 Carl Crofton, in accordance with Bruce's sug- 
 gestion, had ridden over to his father's ranch 
 early in the day, and told his sister of the com- 
 ing guests, and the young lady had instantly 
 determined to make the visit in every sense a 
 success. 
 
 Her Chinese cook was really a marvel.of skill 
 and patience, and her Irish hand -maid splen- 
 didly under control. Their mistress, who from 
 a child, owing to her mother's early death, had 
 been accustomed to govern the household, on 
 this occasion surpassed herself 
 
 On the east side of the house was a wide 
 piazza, literally curtained with climbing roses, 
 whose snowy, crimson, and creamy blossoms 
 grew in delightful clusters amid the glossy 
 leaves; and here, rather thanin the dining-room, 
 Miss Crofton had the table prepared for guests 
 whom Bruce Musgrove was to bring vi^ith him. 
 The result of all these preparations was all that 
 could have been desired, and the young lady 
 had her reward in the look of grateful acknowl- 
 edgment with which Bruce greeted her on his 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 139 
 
 arrival with the important visitors, when the 
 afternoon was about half spent. 
 
 The young hostess, in her most becoming cos- 
 tume, awaited them with her father, and it was 
 quite evident that the gracious hospitality with 
 which they were welcomed, impressed the 
 strangers most favorably. Dinner in the fra- 
 grant shade of the rose-covered piazza was as 
 attractive to the eye as to the palate. Con- 
 versation flowed easily and pleasantly, and 
 many were the graceful compliments bestowed 
 upon the one lady of the party. Miss Crofton 
 was in her element. To be appreciated and 
 admired is always agreeable, and to be so in 
 the presence of a person whom you wish to 
 impress with a sense of your value is peculiar- 
 ly so. 
 
 After dinner the gentlemen strolled about 
 the ranch, which was extensive, and well cared 
 for, and during the stroll the conversation took 
 a business turn. Bruce, under a calmness of 
 manner which might have been almost indif- 
 ference, was in reality profoundly anxious to 
 bring the question of the branch railway to an 
 issue. 
 
 Success and failure often lie so near together 
 that what seems an unimportant step may make 
 the whole difference between them, and the 
 
I40 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 young man was fully conscious of the import- 
 ance of turning the present hour to advantage. 
 He was walking with a gentleman whose "yea 
 or nay" would incline the scale this way or 
 that ; a hard-headed, terribly experienced man 
 of business, and of the world, over and over a 
 millionaire too, who, had he so willed it, might 
 have built the railroad at his own expense; and 
 it was a proof of Bruce's self-control, that he 
 showed no trace of nervousness or excitement 
 while conversing vv'ith this formidable person. 
 
 Whether it was that the gentleman recog- 
 nized in Bruce some of the qualities which, he 
 was accustomed to boast, had raised him from 
 a "city Arab" to what he was, or that on its 
 own merits the scheme approved itself to his 
 mind, after a long pause, which Bruce intuitively 
 felt to be the turning-point of the negotiation, 
 the millionaire pledged himself in a few words 
 to the undertaking. 
 
 Just for a little moment Bruce was silent ; he 
 had worked very hard for this result, and his 
 bosom swelled with a throb of triumph. 
 
 " I thank you, sir," he said, holding out his 
 hand to his companion; "I thank you in the 
 name of our company, as well as in my own, and 
 I pledge my word that you will not regret your 
 determination." 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 141 
 
 A short but satisfactory conversation fol- 
 lowed. As they turned toward the house, the 
 carriages which were to convey the party to 
 the distant station drove up. 
 
 "Only just in time," said Bruce to himself; 
 " had I not clinched the matter now, it might 
 have been delayed indefinitely." 
 
 Success was to Bruce more exhilarating than 
 a draught of strong wine, and Louise Crofton 
 noted the exultant flash in his eyes, and felt 
 that all was right. 
 
 When the gentlemen had taken their leave, 
 she turned to the young man in the most win- 
 ning manner. "I need not ask )'ou the result," 
 she said ; " I see it in your face." 
 
 "We have to thank you for our success,'' he 
 replied, allowing himself to show how elated 
 he was. "The whole thing hung in the balance, 
 and your hospitality decided it." 
 
 "I only carried out your suggestions," she 
 said, meekly, " I did my best, however." 
 
 It was a grand success," he rejoined. " I must 
 tell mother that there is another house-keeper 
 in the valley, besides herseLV 
 
 Louise laughed. " But a long, long way 
 behind her," she said, archly; "don't dare to 
 tell dear Mrs. Musgrove that I am anywhere 
 near her." And then she added, incautiously, 
 
142 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " I know Miss Selwyn would be scandalized; 
 she would think you wanting in proper respect. 
 Your cousin is such a perfect person, that I am 
 really afraid of her." 
 
 But at the mention of Ada's name, coupled 
 with that little sneer, the pleasant look faded 
 from Bruce's face. The wisest of us sometimes 
 make mistakes, and the laughing, handsome 
 girl could not know that, while she spoke, a 
 sudden vision came for him of Ada standing 
 waiting for him in the early morning light, with 
 the roses in her hand, and with a smile of wel- 
 come, as though he had never uttered one harsh 
 word to her, or had an angry thought. 
 
 " She is not such an alarming person," he 
 answered, " and, I am sure, would not plead 
 guilty to the charge of being perfect." 
 
 " Oh, no, we sinners are the ones to think 
 well of ourselves," she retorted. " Miss Selwyn 
 is a saint, and consequently bound to consider 
 herself a ' miserable sinner ' — is not that a 
 paradox } " 
 
 "It sounds like one," he replied, and laughed 
 at the pretty, .puzzled look in the young lady's 
 face, though he felt unaccountably anno}'ed. 
 
 "Tell me," she said — "you know that among 
 my virtues, feminine curiosity has a place — 
 does Miss Selwyn attend church at Caliente .'' 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 143 
 
 I have a maid who is perversely addicted to 
 going there on Sundays, and she solemnly avers 
 that a young lady from the Musgrove Ranch 
 plays the organ for the Episcopal service. Dear, 
 naughty Nettie I knew it could not be, and so 
 was driven to the conclusion that it 7nust be 
 Miss Selwyn." 
 
 "My cousin has not made me her confidant 
 in the matter," replied Bruce; "she does go to 
 church at Caliente, but as to her being organ- 
 ist, I have to leave your feminine curiosity un- 
 gratified." 
 
 " But she does really go to church there 1" 
 exclaimed Miss Crofton, opening her eyes in 
 well-feigned astonishment ; " how funny — I 
 mean how strange — I thought — " 
 
 " What did you think ? " asked Bruce, almost 
 harshly, with one of his sudden frowns. 
 
 " O, Mr. Musgrove, I beg your pardon," she 
 said. " I have been indiscreet to speak as I 
 have done — I am sorry." 
 
 She seemed really pained, and her handsome 
 eyes, shaded by their long lashes, looked as if 
 tears might be near. 
 
 " It is for me to beg your pardon," said 
 Bruce;'' you have done so much for me to-day, 
 and I have been ungrateful enough to speak 
 almost rudely. Accept my humble apology." 
 
144 ^""^^ MUSGkOVE RANCH. 
 
 Just at that moment Carl Crofton rode up, 
 leading Bruce's horse. They were expected at 
 the camping-ground, where the rest of the party 
 were naturally anxious to know how the 
 matter of the railroad had progressed. 
 
 " And once more my fervent thanks," said 
 Bruce, holding out his hand, which Miss Crof- 
 ton accepted with a pretty show of forgiveness. 
 
 She watched the young men out of sight, 
 however, with an unsmiling face and a growing 
 dislike to Ada, whom she regarded as the 
 cause of the first approach to unfriendliness 
 between Bruce and herself. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 It was late before the camp-fire died down 
 that night. There was much eager conversa- 
 tion and sanguine anticipation among the 
 party ; for, now, since that decisive conversa- 
 tion between Bruce and Mr. X, the future of 
 the town was assured, though it was only rep- 
 resented as yet by these few tents gleaming 
 white in the moonlight. As the men sat 
 around the fire discussing in high spirits the 
 projects which now indeed looked like realities, 
 the question of the name was again brought up. 
 
 " It should be decided upon at once," said 
 one gentleman; " the thing is ready now to. be 
 brought before the public as prominently as 
 possible, and the nair.c, of course, is of the first 
 importance. Gentlemen, I think there will be 
 only one sentiment among you when I propose 
 the name of one to whose zeal and energy we 
 are indebted more than to anything else for 
 our encouraging prospects, the name of Mr. 
 Bruce Musgrove. I propose that the town be 
 named after him : Musgrove." 
 145 
 
146 THE niUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 If Bruce had had any doubt of the estimation 
 in which he was held by the inhabitants of the 
 valley, it might now have been set at rest. 
 
 The proposition was accepted with enthusi- 
 asm. One and all stood up, making a very 
 picturesque group as the fire-light fell upon 
 their faces, and one and all vociferously de- 
 clared that the new-born town should be 
 named MuSGROVE. 
 
 The young man to whom this honor had 
 been paid, and who sat just a little apart, 
 watched his companions for a moment. F"or 
 a second time that day he tasted the keen 
 pleasure of gratified ambition, a pleasure which 
 only such minds as his can know. His strong 
 face (lushed and then paled, as he rose to his 
 feet and in a few brief words thanked his com- 
 panions, assuring them that it would be his 
 highest satisfaction to deserve in the future the 
 good things they had said of him, and to help 
 to make the town — his namesake — a credit 
 and pride to the valley and the country. 
 
 It was not strange that Bruce lay awake 
 that night long after silence had fallen upon 
 the camp, but it was strange and sad that, as 
 he lay building up the fabric of the future 
 under the solemn stars, that gaze upon empires 
 and nations as they rise and fall, there should 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 147 
 
 have been no thought of Him without whose 
 will not a sparrow falleth to the ground. 
 Strange and sad that the mind which emanates 
 from Him should not look upward to the 
 "Father of Lights." 
 
 That night, as Ada knelt in prayer by the 
 bedside of Edith Ashleigh, earnestly and 
 tenderly she prayed for Bruce. 
 
 Was it in answer to that prayer that in the 
 midst of his ambitious dreams a feeling of 
 solemnity or sadness crept upon him, and the 
 words of the hymn which his cousin had sung 
 that Sunday night at the ranch came whisper- 
 ing past him in the wind .-' 
 
 I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou 
 
 Should'st lead me on ; 
 I loved to choose and see my path ; but now 
 
 Lead Thou me on. 
 1 loved the garish day ; and, spite of fears, 
 Pride ruled my will : remember not past years. 
 
 How sweetly, ah, how sweetly she had sung 
 them! With what intensity of feeling ! Yet 
 what could she know of the pride that rules 
 the heart .' 
 
 With a feeling of sadness upon him, Bruce 
 fell asleep. 
 
 The day had passed so quietly to Ada that 
 when night came she scarcely felt fatigued, yet. 
 
14-8 THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 in obedience to Mr. Ashleigh's orders, took her 
 share of rest. Never had she cared for a 
 sweeter and more patient sufferer ; never had 
 nursing been less of a burden, more of a 
 pleasure. 
 
 There was a delightful sense of calm, as 
 though the very spirit of peace and holy love 
 brooded over the little dwelling. It seemed a 
 quiet waiting for the Father's will, whether life 
 or death should be the fiat. 
 
 It was the first of many days so spent, for 
 although the immediate danger was over and 
 the symptoms were generally favorable, it 
 would be many weeks before Edith Ashleigh 
 could attain even her ordinary measure of 
 health. 
 
 So, Ada, with her aunt's loving consent, 
 grieved though Mrs. Musgrove was to part 
 with her niece, even for a season, made up her 
 mind to remain at the parsonage. 
 
 Frequent were the visits paid by Mrs. Mus- 
 grove to the Ashleighs. It seemed as though 
 her natural tenderness, which for so long a 
 time had had no channel except that of love 
 and care for her children — often, indeed, only 
 another form of selfishness, flowed out in acts 
 of affectionate sympathy towards those who 
 had been until now strangers to her. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 149 
 
 Every day or two her kindly face would 
 appear at the parsonage, and Mrs. Ashleigh 
 soon learned to love Ada Selwyn's aunt on 
 other grounds than simply because she held 
 that relation to her friend. Delicacies which 
 only Mrs. Musgrove's experienced hand could 
 construct, fruits and flowers, the finest and 
 most fragrant, were constantly brought from 
 the ranch to the parsonage, oftentimes by 
 Hugh, when his mother herself did not come. 
 
 On the second Sunday after Mrs. Ashleigh's 
 illness, Mrs. Musgrove, accompanied by her 
 younger son, attended for the first time the 
 service in the little church at Caliente. 
 
 It was no surprise now, but a source of ex- 
 ceeding pleasure, to Mr. Ashleigh to see the 
 mother and son enter the little building. It 
 was with emotion, so deep as hardly to be re- 
 strained, that, kneeling by her son's side, she 
 heard, after years of estrangement, the old 
 familiar words of the Church's Service. A 
 voice from the past it seemed indeed ; a voice 
 speaking of early years, when, in her far 
 Eastern home she had been surrounded by the 
 influences of religion — a voice which seemed 
 to ask for an account of those long years of 
 worldly prosperity, from, which, by slow and 
 sad degrees, all thoughts and aims connected 
 with the higher life had disappeared. 
 
I^O THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 There was far more pain than comfort in it 
 at first, but gradually there came a foretaste, 
 as it were, a dawn of peace, of that peace 
 which the world cannot give nor take away. 
 
 Ada would have dearly liked to accompany 
 her aunt, but she would not desert her post ; 
 and it was a deep joy to know that Mrs. Mus- 
 grove had really taken the decisive step which 
 Ada felt assured was the beginning of a new 
 life. 
 
 By the following Sunday she was herself 
 able to resume her place at the organ, and it 
 was with a thrill of the intcnsest pleasure that 
 she saw the dear faces of her aunt and cousin 
 among the congregation. 
 
 Another and another week passed by, and 
 there came a day when the aunt and niece 
 knelt side by side at the altar, partaking to- 
 gether of the Bread of Life, and wc may well 
 believe that prayers unspeakable went up from 
 both their hearts for those nearest and dearest 
 who had not yet turned their faces ttiwards the 
 light. 
 
 In all these weeks Ada had neither seen 
 Nettie nor Bruce. Nettie was paying a long 
 visit to her friend, Miss Crofton. A daj or 
 two after Ada had gone to Caliente, she had 
 received a loving invitation from her friend, 
 
THE M use ROVE RANCH. 
 
 151 
 
 and Mrs. Musgrove had made no objection to 
 her going, though she would very gladly have 
 kept her daughter with her. Since that night 
 when she had watched Nettie in her sleep, a 
 passionate desire had sprung up within her that 
 her child should lead a worthier life than 
 hitherto, but she looked for Ada to reinforce 
 her own efforts, and in the mean time did not 
 thwart Nettie's wish to leave home. 
 
 Bruce had ridden over to the ranch occasion- 
 ally, but had not passed through Caliente since 
 he had met Ada that early morning. Every 
 day had brought with it business and respon- 
 sibility ; he lived in what was, to his tempera- 
 ment, an exciting atmosphere. He was really 
 the moving spirit in the whirl of stirring ambi- 
 tions, business projects and activities of various 
 kinds which centred round the new town of 
 Musgrove. It had been necessary to take a 
 couple of trips to San Francisco, for Bruce had 
 been deputed to make the final arrangements 
 about the railway, and to see several land 
 speculators, whose interest in the town of Mus- 
 grove would be a great factor in the growth of 
 the place. Success had attended every step 
 which he had taken, and he returned from his 
 second visit with news so favorable that his 
 colleagues were more than ever impressed by 
 his sagacity, tact, and ability. 
 
152 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RASCH. 
 
 A slight shadow of coolness had sprung up 
 in Miss Crofton's manner to Bruce since the 
 evening when he had seemed so unnecessarily 
 inclined to defend his cousin from her sarcasm ; 
 but, truth to tell, Bruce in the rush of occupa- 
 tion's had not been conscious of it. He had 
 been at the Crofton ranch several times, the 
 more frequently that Nettie was there. Young 
 Crofton would generally propose riding over 
 about sundown, when the business of the day 
 was over, and Bruce often accompanied him. 
 After that one experience Miss Crofton seldom 
 mentioned Ada, but Nettie was often the echo 
 of her friend's remarks, and would sometimes 
 refer to her cousin in her pretty, petulant way, 
 now ridiculing Ada's absurd notions, now com- 
 plaining that she herself had really been de- 
 serted by her mother. 
 
 Miss Crofton well knew that ridicule is a 
 most potent weapon of attack, and while Net- 
 tie's little speeches were so trifling that it seem- 
 ed not worth while to notice them, yet they 
 produced a sort of mental irritation. Of all 
 things, Bruce objected to anything being ridic- 
 ulous, and Miss Crofton, with a skill worthy of 
 a better cause, was trying to make Ada's 
 course of action ridiculous in her cousin's eyes. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 So the days and the weeks sped by, and it 
 was marvelous how the town of Musgrove took 
 shape, not on paper merely, but in reality. 
 Not white tents only now dotted the gentle 
 incline, but whole blocks of buildings were 
 springing up as if by enchantment, while acres 
 upon acres of the surrounding land were being 
 planted with a hundred varieties of fruit trees, 
 gardens laid out, roads graded in all directions, 
 and, above all, a long perspective of little flags, 
 stretching southward, meant that the coming 
 railway was near at hand. 
 
 Then came a day when a great excursion 
 from Los Angeles and San Bernardino and 
 various other points to the new town of Mus- 
 grove took place, and whole lines of convey- 
 ances, from the heavy country wagon up to the 
 well-appointed city carriage, converged tow- 
 ards the foot-hills, and a great sale of land 
 took place, which was, as it were, the first leap 
 into the light of the new town. Fortunes were 
 made that day, and amongst them that of 
 Bruce Musgrove. He had been a prosperous 
 153 
 
154 
 
 THE MVSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 man before, but now he was a man of wealth, 
 with the assured prospect of having that wealth 
 doubled or trebled before a few more years 
 should have passed over his head. 
 
 The long, long summer had merged into 
 autumn. The grapes had been gathered, and 
 the vineyards had turned brown and sere. 
 The oranges were beginning to ripen, and the 
 deciduous trees were gradually turning bare, 
 while their remaining leaves were putting on 
 the sweet, sad colors of decay. 
 
 Dust lay deep, deep upon the roadways ; and 
 the uncultivated land, dry and unlovely from 
 the long drouth, looked as though no such 
 lovely things as flowers and verdure could ever 
 spring from it again. 
 
 And at last mists gathered among the mount- 
 ains, and their tops became obscured with 
 clouds, and the autumn rains were spoken of as 
 near at hand. 
 
 Hugh had driven over to Caliente to bring 
 Ada back to the ranch. Her return had been 
 delayed again and again, for it was not easy to 
 leave the Ashleighs, to whom her presence had 
 brought such comfort, and where such tender 
 gratitude and affection seemed to enchain her. 
 But Mrs. Ashleigh was so much better than 
 they had dared to hope, and both she and her 
 
THE M use ROVE RANCH. 
 
 T55 
 
 husband began to accuse themselves of selfish- 
 ness in keeping their young friend with them 
 any longer. Then, after diligent search, Ada 
 had found a young orphan girl, gentle and 
 helpful, who was installed as servant, and paid 
 by Mrs. Musgrove as her personal contribution 
 to the missionary. 
 
 And, at last, with promises of very frequent 
 visits, and many injunctions to her late patient 
 to take every possible care of herself, and after 
 a tender leave-taking, Ada went away. 
 
 "Well, I have got you at last," said Hugh, 
 wrapping a warm rug about his cousin, for the 
 wind blew quite cold ; " we have missed you 
 horribly, though of course we could not be- 
 grudge you to the Ashl'eighs. You may have 
 the comfort of knowing that you have saved 
 her life and put new life into him." 
 
 Ada laughed away his congratulations. 
 
 " Are Bruce and Nettie at home .■"" she ask- 
 ed ; "it seems an age since I saw either of 
 them." 
 
 " They were to come back this evening, and 
 I should not wonder if we found them there 
 before us," he replied. " I think Bruce is going 
 to devote himself to home duties for the winter. 
 Everything is going on finely at ' Musgrove,' 
 and my noble brother is coming home almost 
 
156 THE MUSG ROVE RANCH. 
 
 a millionaire I believe. It is to be hoped that 
 he will share with his brother, who has been 
 faithfully doing double work in his absence." 
 
 " Of course he will," said Ada. 
 
 Hugh's horse made splendid time, as if alive 
 to the fact that he was taking Ada back to the 
 Musgrove Ranch, and Ada enjoyed the rapid 
 ride with Hugh beside her, and with the pros- 
 pect of meeting the others so soon. 
 
 She thought that the touch of autumn added 
 to the beauty of the ranch, which wore to her 
 a different aspect, for the deciduous trees, being 
 nearly bare, opened up new views of the mount- 
 ains. Some of the vines about the veranda 
 were leafless, but the live-oak was green and 
 dark as ever. 
 
 " Welcome back, dear child !" said her aunt, 
 who stood awaiting her on the porch. " I can- 
 not tell you half how we have missed you. And 
 Bruce and Nettie are coming too," she added 
 cheerfully ; " we shall be all together duringthe 
 rains. I am so glad, for otherwise it is a dull 
 time when you cannot get out." 
 
 It was quite late that night when the brother 
 and sister arrived, so late that Ada could only 
 welcome them and say " good night." 
 
 Nettie, after all, was not sorry to come home, 
 and returned her mother's kiss fondly enough. 
 
THE MUSGKCVE RANCH. 
 
 157 
 
 " Well, Ada," she said, holding her cousin at 
 arm's length, while she Jooked at her, " I don't 
 think nursing agrees with you ; you have got 
 thinner, and paler too," and then she kissed her 
 not ungraciously. 
 
 "You are looking splendid," said Ada; "I 
 should think you must have lived on horse- 
 back." 
 
 "Well, I did, pretty nearly," said Nettie, 
 laughing. " Louise and I rode up to Musgrove 
 nearly every day. I can tell you we had a 
 great deal of fun." 
 
 " You have got home at last, Ada." 
 
 It was Bruce who had just entered. He held 
 out his hand, and Ada, looking up at him, 
 thought that he seemed much older than when 
 she had seen him last. He was deeply bronzed 
 by the sunshine in which he had spent so many 
 weeks, and the look of determination which 
 his face had always worn had deepened almost 
 to sternness. 
 
 " Yes, Bruce, I got back a few hours ago. 
 Hugh came for me and carried me off." 
 
 " Otherwise I suppose you would have re- 
 mained indefinitely at Caliente." 
 
 There was the old mocking tone, which half 
 pained, half pleased her. 
 
 " And yet I am glad to be with you all again," 
 
158 THE MUSGROVE RAAXH. 
 
 she said, smiling good-humoredly ; " I shall like 
 to be wakened by the workmen's bell to-mor- 
 row morning ; but I must say ' good night ' 
 now, or even that will not waken me." 
 
 The gentle voice, the manner so self-pos- 
 sessed, yet so modest, the bright, calm face — 
 Bruce looked at her for a moment or two in 
 silence, until Ada began to think she had of- 
 fended him again, and then he said " good 
 night." 
 
 A change had come over the Musgrove 
 Ranch since Ada had come to live there. It 
 was, in one sense, a house divided against 
 itself; there were " three against two and two 
 against three," for. now Ada was not alone in 
 living not for this present world only. 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove had yielded herself heart and 
 soul to the blessed influence which in the per- 
 son of Ada had been brought to bear upon her, 
 and Hugh, most like his mother of all her chil- 
 dren, in fulfilling his promise made to Ada, that 
 he would think seriously of the great questions 
 they had spoken of together, had come to see 
 with a strong conviction that life without God 
 is a failure, be it in the eyes of the world ever 
 so great a success. 
 
 Neither the ridicule nor indifference of Bruce 
 or Nettie could weigh now cither with PIui.;h or 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 159 
 
 their mother, but whether their own influence 
 combined with that of Ada could have any 
 weight with the brother and sister remained to 
 be seen. 
 
 When Sunday came round Hugh drove his 
 mother and cousin to Cahente. Bruce had not 
 appeared at breakfast ; Nettie looked injured, 
 if not disgusted, when they drove away, but 
 she wasted no words on this occasion except to 
 say that they would certainly be caught in the 
 rain. 
 
 It was indeed clouding up heavily on all sides, 
 and the wind blew cold from the southeast, 
 the rainy quarter in Southern California. 
 
 They went, however, and returned before the 
 rain began, which it did very soon afterwards. 
 
 At first it same in slow and heavy drops, but 
 soon m such rushing torrents that Ada felt al- 
 most frightened. The wind, too, rose to a 
 tempest and swept round the house with a roar 
 which seemed to threaten its destruction. 
 
 Ada was sitting, in the afternoon, watching 
 the rushing rain and listening to the uproar of 
 the wind, half fascinated, half frightened, when 
 Bruce joined her. 
 
 " We don't do anything by halves in Califor- 
 nia," he said, taking a seat near her; " you see, 
 when it rains, it rains. How do you like it ? " 
 
l6o THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " Very much," she said, " if it does not sweep 
 us away." 
 
 " There is not much danger of that here. 
 Higher up towards the mountains cloud-bursts 
 occur occasionally." 
 
 " They must be terrible ; have you ever wit- 
 nessed one .'' " 
 
 " I just escaped one once, but I was glad that 
 I had seen it. It is one of the most awful sights 
 in nature. The tremendous havoc which it 
 makes gives one an idea of chaos." 
 
 Then they sat silent for a while, looking out. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " How near is your new town to the mount- 
 ains ? " said Ada. 
 
 " Nearer than this by some miles, but out of 
 the region of cloud-bursts," he answered. 
 
 " I was glad when Hugh told me that they 
 had named it ' Musgrove,' " she said; " you de- 
 served it." 
 
 Bruce colored. 
 
 " Can you consistently think it well that the 
 town should be named after me .■" " he asked, 
 " a new town — a new centre — after a person 
 who presumes to differ from the orthodox 
 faith ? " 
 
 " It is a good name," she said softly, " and 
 the time may come when he who bears it will 
 not think that to leave God out of his life and 
 his purposes is a proof of superior strength and 
 wisdom." 
 
 The words seemed a severe rebuke, but the 
 soft ej'es and sweet, sad lips seemed to plead 
 with him for himself. 
 
 Bruce rose abruptly from his seat, walked to 
 and fro for a time, then took it again. 
 l6l 
 
I 62 rriE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " You do not encourage a man's vanity, at all 
 events," he said, with an angry little laugh; 
 " fortunately vanity is not one of my sins.'' 
 
 " No," she said, '' no, I have never thought 
 you vain. Vanity is an unmanly weakness, and 
 you are certainly not unmanly." 
 
 "Thank you," he rejoined, scoffingly; "it is 
 really comforting that you do not altogether 
 condemn me." 
 
 " I ought not to speak to you, when you ridi- 
 cule me," she said, quietly, " but, you see, I be- 
 lieve in your better nature. I don't know that 
 I should wish you to be unlike what you are, 
 only — " 
 
 "Oiily what? — but I need not ask; you 
 would like me to be a meek disciple of the Rev. 
 Father Ashleigh, without an independent 
 thought of my own. You would like me to kill 
 out the only part of my being which I value — the 
 freedom and the power of abstract thought," 
 
 " I ought to thank you in turn for your high 
 .■i|^[jreciatioii of me," said Ada, "but yi'ui are 
 talking at random, Bruce. Ynu know as well 
 ns I do that the power you value most in your- 
 s(;lf is no less valuable to me. I have always 
 longed to speak to you of these things, but I 
 have really been afraid of you, Piruce ; you were 
 almost crue.) to me that day in the Canon." 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 1 63 
 
 " Well, my cruelty did not deter you from 
 following your own way in every particular, 
 and from proselytizing mother and Hugh," lie 
 added harshly. 
 
 " If faith is anything, it ought certainly to 
 enable us to endure, at least, a little measure 
 cf hardness," she said. "I told you that day 
 that it was not a matter of choice with me, but 
 of necessity.'' 
 
 " You righteous people are wonderfully cle\ er 
 in adapting principles to practice." 
 
 " You mean that in following my own self- 
 will I quieted my conscience by calling it duty." 
 
 " You put it very plainly," he replied. 
 
 " If I thought you really took that view of it, 
 I should be very unhappy, but I cannot quite 
 believe it. Bruce, there is something in } our 
 inner consciousness that makes you know 
 you're judging me unfairly.'' 
 
 "Why are you not angry with me .-' " he said 
 impatiently, half kindly ; "if you were, there 
 would be some satisfaction in scolding you." 
 
 " I am not at all too good to be angry, but 
 when I am sorry about a thing it is a distinct 
 thing from anger." 
 
 " And you are sorry for me ?" he asked, curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Yes, Bruce," she answered, slowly; "I am 
 
I 64 I'il^ MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 very sorry for you." And again, as on that day 
 in the Canon, she looked at him with sweet 
 compassion in her face. 
 
 A mocking answer was on his lip, but the 
 words remained unspoken. 
 
 Again they sat in silence, watching the down- 
 pour, and the trees bending and writhing in 
 the fierce wind. 
 
 What an extraordinary change from the 
 scene to which Ada had grown accustomed, 
 the almost perpetual sunshine, the blue skies 
 and brilliant flowers. There was a dest'lation 
 in it — a sunless world given up to tempest. 
 
 When they next spoke it was of other things. 
 Ada was really desirous of knowing all about 
 the new town and its prospects, and she asked 
 her cousin many questions. 
 
 " And is it really true, Bruce," she said at 
 last, "or was Hugh joking when he said th.it 
 )'ou were not far off from being a million- 
 aire 1 " 
 
 "At all events it was not a very gross exag- 
 geration. Are j'ou much impressed with the 
 fact?." he added, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, I think I am. Millionaires arc rather 
 awful people to me." 
 
 " Especially when they are heathen, I sup- 
 pose .' " 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 165 
 
 " Especially when they are heathen ; in fact, 
 then they are absokitely terrible." 
 
 " Then I must be in no hurry to become one, 
 as you would shun me altogether." 
 
 "Butjo?^ are not going to be a heathen mill- 
 ionaire, Bruce, I have faith to believe." 
 
 " Do not deceive yourself," he said; "even 
 you — even you, Ada, cannot, unmake me. I am 
 cast in a different mold from my brother." 
 
 Nettie came to see what had become of Ada, 
 and thus the longest, and on the whole, the 
 most friendly, talk which Bruce and Ada had 
 had together, since their first difference, came 
 to a close. 
 
 All that night the storm raged and the rain 
 fell in torrents. Ada was awake many times 
 listening to the tumult. Once or twice she was 
 on the point of rising and going to her aunt's 
 room, but the utter silence in the house made 
 her conclude that there was no cause for alarm. 
 Towards morning she fell into a deep sleep, 
 which lasted far beyond her usual time for ris- 
 ing, and when she did awake it was to find her 
 aunt standing by her bedside. 
 
 '' You were having such a deep, sweet sleep, 
 child, that I had not the heart to wake you," 
 she said, "but you are such an early riser that 
 we began to fear that you were not well. 
 
I 66 THE MVSGROVE RA.YCH. 
 
 and Bruce sent me up to see what was the 
 matter." 
 
 Ada smiled happily.. She was glad to know 
 that Bruce had missed her. 
 
 "I am ashamed to think of being so late, 
 but, Auntie, I was really frightened at the 
 storm. It sounded dreadful, and — why it is go- 
 ing on still 1 " she exclaimed, for just then a 
 sheet of rain was driven against the windows 
 and a long howl of wind went rounJ the house. 
 
 " O, yes, we shall probably have three or 
 four days of it," said the elder lady, contented- 
 ly; " it is not pleasant while it lasts, but, my 
 dear, these autumn rains are our very life. It 
 is a new world for us when they have sunk 
 down into the thirsty land. You will see how 
 much more beautiful this country is when the 
 natural grasses spring up, and when our mount- 
 ains are capped with snow. But now, get up, 
 and I will go to tell Bruce that you are not 
 sick." 
 
 She looked a little archly at Ada, as she 
 spoke, for the idea had for the first time dawn- 
 ed upon her that morning that her son Bruce, 
 the one in whom her pride had chiefly cen- 
 tred, though, to use the homely phrase, she had 
 taken less " comfort" in him than in her other 
 children, was beginning to entertain something 
 
THE M use ROVE RANCH. 167 
 
 more than a cousinly feeling for Ada. Ah ! if 
 indeed Ada could be her daughter ! If she 
 once had a wife's influence over Bruce, what 
 might she not accomplish ! 
 
 It was well that Ada knew nothing of the 
 thought passing through her aunt's mind, 
 otherwise she could not have been so absolute- 
 ly unconscious when she appeared at the break- 
 fast-table refreshed and rosy from her long 
 morning sleep. 
 
 " Why did you not tell us you were afraid ? " 
 said Nettie. " I would have gone to comfort 
 you." And Ada owned that she did not want 
 to be thought a coward. 
 
 "Weakness number two ! " said Bruce; "rat- 
 tlesnakes and rain-storms." 
 
 It seemed to be going over again the first 
 pleasant days at the r.anch, to find that Bruce 
 had got over his harshness, and was at least 
 reconciled to the new order of things. The 
 truth was that among the late excitements and 
 successes of his life, his anger and bitterness of 
 feeling at the new relations between his family 
 and the Ashleighs (not to speak of the church) 
 had lost their force, while, on the other hand, 
 the meek determination of Ada, and her forgiv- 
 ing sweetness, had, all unconsciously to himself, 
 had their influence upon him. Yet, as he had 
 
1 68 THE irUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 said to Ada, he was cast in a different mold 
 from his brother; he was made of "sterner 
 stuff" and it would need a far different process 
 to soften it. 
 
 Tiiree days of ahnost incessant down-pour 
 passed very pleasantly to Ada, shut up within 
 the attractive home of the Musgrovcs. The 
 temporary sepiration of the family seemed to 
 have made them the more enjoy each other's 
 society, and Ada would alv/ays remember, 
 through the after-years, those days so dark 
 without, so bright within, when a new joy, she 
 knew not what, nor sought to know, was added 
 to her life. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Bruce and his brother, cased in water-proof 
 from head to foot, would sally forth twice a 
 day on a tour of general inspection ; for the 
 elder brother was very systematic in every- 
 thing connected with the ranch, and trusted 
 very little to those less interested than himself 
 Stables and stalls, water-pipes and flumes, 
 were taken account of day by day, and the 
 men employed felt that a master's eye was 
 upon them. 
 
 On their return to the house, the brothers 
 would bring back some little message from 
 outside to the imprisoned ladies. Once it was 
 a little half-drowned pigeon, which had slipped 
 from the edge of the dove-cote, and Bruce had 
 picked up half-dead, and brought to be nursed 
 back to life by Ada and Nettie. Again it was 
 a bunch of dripping rose-buds, which Hugh 
 had gathered, not open enough to be beaten 
 asunder by the rain; and on the third evening 
 Bruce brought in a little branch of olive. 
 
 " The waters are subsiding,'' he said, as he 
 169 
 
I 70 THE MUSGROl'E RAXCH. 
 
 handed them to Ada ; " I bring you the prom- 
 ise of better things.'' 
 
 'It is a beautiful token," she answered, 
 taking it from his hands; " I accept it as such." 
 
 She took it up to her room with her and 
 placed it in water, where it lived for many 
 days. 
 
 The lengthening evenings in the home-like 
 drawing-room were delightful. Music, chess, 
 and pleasant converse in the softened lamp- 
 light, while the fire of manzanita and Eucalyp- 
 tus crackled and sparkled in the wide, open 
 grate, and the rushing rain and wind made 
 the contrast more charming. 
 
 Ada was an only child and an orphan, and 
 there was something inexpressibl)' sweet to 
 her in this home-life, into which she had been 
 so lovingly welcomed. How much she her- 
 self added to its charms, she was unconscious 
 of, but all the others, even Nettie not excepted, 
 acknowledged her sweet influence. 
 
 " Will you sing something, Ada .' " asked 
 Bruce, one evening. It was the first time he 
 had ever asked her. 
 
 " What would you like .' " she said. 
 
 He would have liked to hear what she had 
 sung that evening when he stood apart looking 
 out into the moon-lit garden. The words and 
 
THE MUSGROVE RAAXIl. 
 
 171 
 
 tones had haunted him ever since, but it seemed 
 incongruous in himself to ask for it. 
 
 " Anything you like," he answered. 
 
 Opening her music-book, she chanced upon 
 that lovely song, " O wert thou in the cauld 
 blast." Its exquisite melody and pathos made 
 it one of her chief favorites, and she sang to- 
 night as never before. 
 
 ' My ]ilaidie to the angry airt, 
 I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee." 
 
 It was with a pleasure that was almost pain, 
 that Bruce listened to the pure, liquid notes so 
 touching in their simplicity. 
 
 "Ada," exclaimed Hugh, "you are- the 
 sweetest singer I have ever heard, and that is 
 the loveliest song." 
 
 " Do you think so V she said, laughing soft- 
 ly ; "it is a great favorite of mine. Did you 
 like it Bruce .-' " she asked a little timidly, for 
 he had only thanked her without expressing 
 an opinion. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I like it." 
 
 " Sing it again," said Nettie ; but Ada, instead 
 of doing so, sang a tender little Italian air 
 which they did not understand. 
 
 " I will sing another time," she said. " I do 
 
1/2 
 
 THE MUSGROVE K ASCII. 
 
 not like to weary people; that is one of my 
 vanities." 
 
 "Just that one beautiful hymn for me, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Musgrove, " Lead, Kindly 
 Light " ; and Ada sang it as beautifully as that 
 other night, but without the undercurrent of 
 pain which had touched Bruce so strangely. 
 
 " I loved to see and choose the path, but now 
 Lead Thou me on," 
 
 It was with a different feeling in her heart 
 that Ada sang it now; there was more of hope- 
 fulness and less of pain. Bruce watched the 
 singer, and his own face, as he did so, grew veil- 
 ed and sad. He had begun within the last few 
 days to discover his own secret. He had begun 
 to acknowledge to himself that, to use the trite 
 expression, he had " met his fate " in Ada. But 
 it was with no gladness of hope that he said 
 this to himself; he knew too well that between 
 himself and Ada there was a barrier which, to 
 her, would be insurmountable; and, if he knew 
 himself at all, could never be removed. 
 
 On the following morning Ada was awaken- 
 ed by a flood of sunshine pouring into her win- 
 dows. The world looked as if new-born; every 
 fleece of cloud had been swept from the blue 
 dome of heaven, and the mountains, which had 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 173 
 
 been for days blotted out by clouds, stood forth 
 in all the fullness of their beauty, in every line 
 of light and depth of shadow, exquisitely de- 
 fined. It was with a sense of joy and loving 
 thankfulness that the young girl looked abroad 
 upon the marvelous scene. As she stood lean- 
 ing from her window, she heard Bruce's voice 
 calling to her. 
 
 "Good morning, Ada," he said, lifting his 
 hat; " you see the deluge is past. How would 
 you like to drive with me to Rocky Canon this 
 morning f I want to see whether the reservoir 
 is all right. But you must not be afraid of a 
 little rough driving." 
 
 " I shall be delighted," she answered; " I was 
 just wishing that we could go somewhere this 
 glorious morning, and I will try to be as little 
 of a coward as possible." 
 
 Mrs. Musgrove was a little apprehensive of 
 the drive. 
 
 "The roads will be badly washed out after 
 all the rain," she said. "Really, Bruce, I don't 
 feel comfortable about your going, even with- 
 out Ada." 
 
 Hugh thought it would be all right up to the 
 mouth of the Canon, but that the road from 
 there might be impracticable. He felt strongly 
 inclined to suggest that he, and not Ada, 
 
174 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RANCH, 
 
 should accompany Bruce, but he had learned 
 to read her face, and saw that she had set her 
 heart on going; so he refrained. 
 
 " You can leave Ada at the Hawleys," he 
 said, " and take one of the boys up to the flume 
 with you." 
 
 "Of course Ada shall run no risks," said 
 Bruce, a little impatiently; " and if she thinks 
 the drive will tire her too much — " 
 
 •' Oh, no, do take me, Bruce; I have not had 
 a good long drive for many weeks, and I am 
 really longing to go." 
 
 So after breakfast they set out. They had not 
 driven together since the night when Bruce 
 drove his cousin from the picnic, when he had 
 been so harsh and stern, and had shown his 
 character in such an unlovely light. Ada had 
 never liked to think of that evening. But to-day 
 he was at his best, and what a drive it was, and 
 what a day ! 
 
 Ada had never felt quite so happy in her life 
 before. It was so good to feel that she had so 
 far gained what she had prayed for, without 
 alienating Bruce. And tlie fact that he had 
 forgiven her, might it not mean that he himself 
 in time might be led by the same blessed in- 
 fluence as the others .'' 
 
 They talked of many things, Bruce showing 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 175 
 
 SO much appreciation of what was beautiful 
 and true, and expressing so much nobihty of 
 feeling, that Ada, glancing at him now and 
 then, felt that her first impressions of him must 
 have been true ones, and that his fine face was 
 indeed the index of his mind. 
 
 The road towards the mountains, level and 
 sandy, had been beaten smooth and hard by 
 the rain, and driving was excellent. Here and 
 there a covey of quail came tripping across the 
 road from the brushwood on either side, to 
 vanish again at sight of the travelers, and 
 then a flock of wild canaries, sweet singers 
 and delicate, lovely creatures, would flutter 
 upwards into the blue air and settle again up- 
 on a bush which contained some attraction of 
 buds or insects. 
 
 Already a faint tracery of fresh green was 
 visible here and there upon the ground, a tiny 
 fern-like leaf which Bruce told Ada would 
 develop into the tall wild clover, beloved of 
 horses and cattle. 
 
 " When you see our wild flowers," he said, 
 "you will indeed be charmed with California. 
 These slopes will look like ' the field of the 
 cloth of gold ' with the velvety orange of the 
 poppy, as it is called, and then again there 
 will be stretches of the richest purple and the 
 
176 
 
 THE Mi'SGA'OVE RAhXH. 
 
 purest white, and mosaics of pink and blue and 
 
 crimson." 
 
 " Ah ! it must be lovely indeed ! " said Ada, 
 " but I can hardly fancy it more so than it is 
 to-day,'' she added, with a sigla of contentment. 
 
 " I am glad you like our country," said 
 Bruce, slowly, " glad that you feel you can 
 make your home here. It is so, is it not ? " 
 
 "Yes; though I am very loyal to my past, 
 yet you know, Bruce, in one sense I have been 
 a good deal alone, and there is a delightful 
 sense of home with you all which appeals to 
 me in a way you can hardly understand, be- 
 cause you have never been without it." 
 
 Bruce was silent, and she went on. 
 
 " Has it ever occurred to you, Bruce, how 
 little we value what we have always had } 
 There was a young girl I knew once who had 
 been blind from early childhood. An oculist 
 had told her parents that her sight might be 
 restored by a difficult and delicate operation, 
 but the people were very, very poor, and be- 
 sides had grown accustomed to the girl's con- 
 dition, and so, in time, got rather indifferent 
 about it, as well as ccjnsidering it beyond 
 possibility to obtain the nece^sarx' money for 
 the operation. 
 
 " The people ]i\ ed in a district that I visited, 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 177 
 
 and from the first time I saw the girl I felt an 
 intense pity for her. She had a sweet, sad 
 face, an appealing face that seemed to go with 
 me when I left her. So I got the necessary 
 money and I took her with me to the famous 
 Doctor G. Poor Josie, that was her name, 
 wanted m,e to be with her at the operation, 
 and I consented, with the doctor's permission. 
 Am I wearying you, Bruce .'' " 
 
 " No, I like to hear you; go on." 
 
 "Well, of course she was herself unconscious 
 of the result for many days, but the doctors told 
 me they had every reason to believe it was 
 altogether satisfactory, and I longed to see and 
 yet almost dreaded the effect upon herself when 
 the time came that she might see. 
 
 "0, Bruce, I cannot think of it without a 
 thrill. For a few days I had not seen her, and 
 then— one morning, the doctor took me up to 
 her, telling me that she had been growing 
 accustomed to the light, and was asking for 
 Miss Selwyn. When we went in she was sitting 
 in a softly shaded room ; the doctor had pre- 
 pared her for my coming. Ah, that face, 
 those eyes with the joy of sight in them ! She 
 held me by the hands and looked at me as if 
 she could take me into her very life. 
 
 " ' Miss Ada ! Miss Ada I' she said, ' I see — 
 
178 THE MUSGROVE RAXC/I. 
 
 I see ! God has given me everything. O, the 
 wonder and the beauty of it. I have always 
 felt what you were like^but now I see ! Ah, 
 my good God ! I see !' 
 
 " I was so overcome, Bruce, tliat she had- to 
 soothe me like a child. I never can forget it, 
 nor the feeling it gave me of my own dullness 
 and ingratitude. / had akuays possessed the 
 blessing which she had never known till now, 
 and in all my life I had never realized it." 
 
 There was a tender earnestness in Ada's 
 manner, a depth of hidden meaning in her 
 little story, and her voice trembled as she re- 
 called what had affected her so deeply. 
 
 Bruce found no words to comment on it. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 They had driven on and on until the sharp 
 rocks which formed the entrance to the Caiion 
 stood out boldly from the mountain back- 
 ground. The road suddenly became rough 
 and encumbered with rocks and boulders, and 
 it was with some difficulty that they proceed- 
 ed. Just as Ada began to wonder how they 
 were going on, they turned an angle in the 
 road and came in sight of a rough shanty, built 
 in a hollow of the rock, upon a sort of natural 
 platform. 
 
 "There is the Hawley place," said Bruce, 
 pointing to it with his whip, " that Hugh spoke 
 of, and, after all, I shall probably have to leave 
 you there. They are decent people, though 
 they will probably seem rough to you. I hope 
 you will not mind waiting there till I come 
 back." 
 
 " Oh no, of course not, if you think it best, 
 though, to tell the truth, I had set my heart 
 on seeing the place where our water comes 
 from." 
 
 " I am sorry you should be disappointed, but 
 179 
 
l8o THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 it would be impossible, I think, to drive further 
 than the Hawleys. You can judge from this 
 what the road would be like farther on. From 
 here it is really a watercourse in the heavy 
 rains, and these scattered rocks and boulders 
 that you see have been carried down by the 
 force of the water. These torrents subside as 
 rapidly as they grow, and this particular one 
 was the overflow from our reservoir, which is 
 built about a mile up the Caiion. I felt a little 
 anxious about it owing to the suddenness and 
 force of the rains after the long dry spell, but 
 it must be all right or the road from this on 
 would be a stream." 
 
 Ada listened dutifully, and was impressed by 
 the facts which Bruce imparted, and soon they 
 reached the foot of the slope on which the 
 Hawley place, as it was called, stood. 
 
 In answer to a shout from Bruce, two long, 
 lean men, roughly clad and almost as brown 
 as Indians, appeared at the shanty door and 
 came down the slope. 
 
 "All right, boys .''" asked Bruce. " Have you 
 been up the flume this morning 1 " 
 
 " We was just going to start," one of the 
 men replied. " Mother was took sick last night 
 with one of her bad spells, and we couldn't go 
 before." 
 
THE MUSG ROVE RANCH. l8l 
 
 "Poor woman, is she better ?" asked Ada. 
 
 "I guess she'll do now," he replied, eyeing 
 the young lady curiously. 
 
 " Well, one of you can stay with her, now 
 that I am here. Joe, you can come with me, 
 and Bob can stay and look after Aleppo. How 
 is the road .'' Do you think this young lady 
 could walk up to the pit .■'" 
 
 "Well," said Joe, who seemed spokesman, 
 reflectively chewing his tobacco — " well, I 
 guess, if she ain't afeared of wearing out her 
 shoes, she can come. It's pretty rough, though." 
 
 Ada laughed. " My shoes are strong," she 
 said, " and I should dearly like to try." 
 
 " You shall try," said Bruce, and he sprang 
 down from the buggy and lifted his cousin out. 
 
 Bob was left in charge of Aleppo, and the 
 three set out up the Canon. 
 
 " Pretty rough" was a very mild expression, 
 for the condition of the road, which was sim- 
 ply no road at all, so filled up was it with rub- 
 ble from the rocks, not to speak of boulders 
 and sharp fragments of a much larger size. 
 
 Ada was soon strongly tempted to desist, 
 but Bruce was so patient with her unsteady 
 footsteps and altogether so encouraging, that 
 she persevered, and after a little became more 
 accustomed to the difficulties of the way. 
 
I 82 THri MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " You will make quite a mountaineer," said 
 Bruce, glancing at the sweet face with an un- 
 wonted glow upon it; " there is everything in 
 being accustomed to difficulties. After a time 
 they grow so much less formidable as almost 
 to disappear." 
 
 " You are a philosopher, Bruce," she an- 
 swered, " but I am afraid I was very foolish to 
 encumber you with my helpless person. I 
 could not walk ten yards without you." 
 
 " I don't suppose you could," he said, laugh- 
 ing, ''but you see my philosophy includes a 
 willingness to be encumbered by you, if you 
 wish to use the term." 
 
 Joe was some twenty yards ahead of them, 
 apparently scumbling and sprawling, but in 
 reality balancing himself, with the skill that 
 comes from long practice, on slanting rocks 
 and rounding boulders, and getting on with 
 much ease and comfort to his ungainly person. 
 
 Ada was so engrossed with trying to pick 
 her way and keep her footing that she was un- 
 able to realize the savage beauty of the Cafion 
 sides, which grew in majesty and wildness as 
 the way wound on between them. It seemed 
 to the girl's tired feet like many miles, but in 
 reality they had only walked one when Bruce 
 told her to look up. They had nearly reached 
 
THE MUSGKOVE RANCH. 183 
 
 their destination. In front of them rose a 
 sheer wall of rock to a dizzy height, and from 
 its summit poured a stream which had gathered 
 among the upper heights of the mountains and 
 descended from slopes and ledges till it reach- 
 ed this final downfall. Like the water-fall 
 which Ada had seen in the other canon, it 
 dashed itself into foam upon the rocks before it 
 was gathered into an immense reservoir, in 
 part natural, in part built of cemented stones, 
 which was exclusively the Musgrove property 
 and the direct source of the beauty and fruitful- 
 ness of the Musgrove ranch. Thither the 
 water was flumed and piped down the Canon 
 and across the valley. 
 
 To a person unaccustomed to such scenes, 
 this was almost overpowering. The vast 
 height of the precipice, the weird and sombre 
 forms of the mountains rising in an almost 
 complete circle around them, the huge reser- 
 voir, filled to overflowing with dark water, 
 combined to make a picture which photograph- 
 ed itself on Ada's brain. She shuddered 
 slightly, as leaning on Bruce's arm she gazed 
 around her. 
 
 " It is an awful picture, is it not .''" he said, 
 looking at her with some solicitude, for the 
 flush had faded from her face, and she looked 
 very tired. 
 
1 8 4 THE MUSGR VE RANCH. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, almost under her 
 breath, "it is an awful picture. Do you know, 
 Bruce, if you were not with me, I think I 
 should give way to a feeling of horror." 
 
 " But you would not be here without me," 
 he said, more fondly than he knew. "Ada, I 
 am sorry I let you come. It has been too much 
 for you. Hugh was right ; you should have 
 remained at the Hawleys : I blame myself" 
 
 " No, no. I would come. I did so want to 
 come. If there is any one to blame it is cer- 
 tainly myself alone." 
 
 " I am going to make a comfortable seat for 
 you, and you shall rest while I go round the 
 reservoir with Joe. It is necessary to look 
 narrowly at the wall to see if any repairs are 
 needed. It looks all right and tight, however." 
 
 He found a flat stone and laid it across two 
 others, where she could rest against a rock, a 
 little below the reservoir, and when he had 
 seen her comfortably seated, he left her, saying 
 that he would not lose sight of her for a mo- 
 ment, and that she need have no fear whatever 
 of rattlesnakes so soon after a rain. And then 
 he followed Joe, who was still balancing his 
 long and awkward body from stone to stone as 
 he began the circuit of the reservoir. 
 
 Ada watched the two men, smiling to herself. 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 185 
 
 though she had not yet got over her nervous 
 uneasiness at the strange contrast which they 
 represented — Joe, loose-hmbed and ungainly, 
 Bruce, tall, erect, and firmly knit, yet lithe as 
 only one accustomed to mountain exercise can 
 be. His cousin watched him almost step by 
 step as he walked slowly on, skirting the edge 
 of the dark water and turning again and again 
 to watch her. 
 
 It was such a relief, after that terrible mile, 
 to rest her tired feet and to lean against the 
 rock, that after a time — it was really only a 
 little time — Bruce's figure seemed to grow in- 
 distinct and the shadows of the projecting 
 rocks to enfold her with a deep cloud of dreams, 
 and then she sank into a profound slumber. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A STILLNESS as of death brooded over the 
 place, for the footsteps of the two men, who 
 had now reached the point of the reservoir 
 farthest from Ada, had long ceased to be au- 
 dible, and the inflowing water from the upper 
 rocks, though constant and copious, was with- 
 out a sound. 
 
 How long she had rested in that trance-like 
 slumber Ada never knew. But what was 
 this which wakened her with a start of un- 
 speakable horror .■' What was the awful sound 
 which tore the stillness like the voice of many 
 thunders ? 
 
 She sprang, or, rather, staggered to her feet. 
 What, oh what was Tills rolling towards her 
 in awful, unimaginable force — the very image 
 of destruction 1 
 
 One instant she stood, while with the despair 
 of a young life brought suddenly face to face 
 with death, a piercing cry escaped her ; then, 
 lifting her eyes and hands to Heaven, she sent 
 one unuttcred prayer to the Master whom she 
 had learned to serve so humbly and love so well. 
 1 86 
 
THE MUSGRO VE RANCH. \ 8 7 
 
 The rock against which she had been lean- 
 ing was broken into hollows and ledges, of 
 which a strong climber could have availed 
 himself without much difficulty to escape the 
 on - rushing water, but Ada's strength was 
 spent. 
 
 Yet she turned wildly, and standing on the 
 seat which Bruce had made for her, she reach- 
 ed upward and strove with a supreme effort to 
 gain a footing on a narrow ledge somewhat 
 above her. 
 
 Before her feet had touched it, however, the 
 water, leaping onward like an enraged lion, 
 had caught the slender form, lifting it for a 
 moment, and in the next had hidden it from 
 sight. 
 
 Bruce, at the farther end of the reservoir, 
 had heard the awful crash, which for the mo- 
 ment stunned him with its appalling noise. 
 His eyes distended with horror as he saw his 
 cousin's position. He saw her rise to her feet, 
 saw, even as he rushed madly towards the spot, 
 her effort at escape ; he saw the awful wave that 
 seemed to cast itself upon her. 
 
 His brow was wet with the dew of a great 
 agony, as he realized his own helplessness in 
 that terrible moment, and from his lips came 
 words wrung from the bitterness of his soul. 
 
iSS THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 
 
 " Save her — my God — save her ! 
 
 It was the first prayer which Bruce had 
 uttered for long years. It was the instinctive 
 cry of a soul naked and helpless in the face of 
 its dire need. 
 
 " Save her — my God — save her ! " that was 
 all. 
 
 Leaping from stone to stone, getting over 
 the awful intervening space he knew not how, 
 Bruce reached the spot to find that the tor- 
 rent had rolled on down the slope, turning the 
 bottom of the Canon into a seething river. 
 With despairing e>'es he looked around him 
 and before him. Had the flood carried Ada's 
 body down among the dreadful crags and 
 boulders .'' 
 
 At that moment he would have given aH he 
 possessed, all hope, all ambition, all success — 
 c\'er\thing that had made up his life, nay, life 
 itself, to have rescued her. 
 
 As he stood there in his helpless wretched- 
 ness, Joe, his rough-hewn face blanched with 
 horror, came up to him. 
 
 "The young lady!" he gasped; "what's 
 come of her .'' " 
 
 Bruce could only answer with a groan. 
 
 Wading knee deep in water, they reached 
 the spot where she had been sitting. Was it 
 
THE MUSGROVE RANCH. 189 
 
 — could it be possible that the water had lifted 
 her on to the rocks ! 
 
 It was in reality only the edge of that dread- 
 ful wave which had reached Ada. It had been 
 more than sufficient, however, to overcome 
 her feeble strength, and to cast her apparently 
 lifeless form into a depression of the rocks, a 
 projection of which she had endeavored to 
 climb. 
 
 As Bruce looked wildly around, he saw a 
 fragment of her dress. The sight of it drove 
 the blood to his heart with a fierce throb of 
 fear and hope. He climbed upon a slippery 
 ledge, and looking down, saw within a few 
 yards of him Ada's seemingly lifeless body. 
 
 In a moment he was beside her, chafing the 
 cold hands, resting the wan face with its fast 
 closed eyes upon his breast, calling upon her 
 with a passionate tenderness to speak to him 
 once more. 
 
 Bruce's prayer was answered, though from 
 lips so long prayerless, for God is truly a mer- 
 ciful and loving Father; and when at last, with 
 a long, shuddering sigh, Ada's eyes unclosed 
 and met her cousin's with a look of wonder 
 first, then with a dreadful remembrance, at 
 last with tender recognition, Bruce's heart, 
 moved to its depth, was smitten through and 
 
I go 
 
 THE MUSGROVE RAXCH. 
 
 through with a consciousness of God's mercy 
 and his own unworthiness. 
 
 " Did you save me, Bruce ?" whispered Ad . 
 in that first sweet moment of restored life, 
 looking into her cousin's face. 
 
 " No, dear, no, not I — but the God whom I 
 disowned and denied. He saved you ! " 
 
 Ada closed her eyes again, and her lips 
 moved in words that Bruce could not hear, 
 and yet whose import he knew. 
 
 Yes, Ada was saved, as by a miracle, but 
 she was chilled and exhausted, and it was a 
 painful problem ho\v they were to get back to 
 the mouth of the Canon. 
 
 But here Joe's experience stood them in 
 good stead. He knew a way — it was indeed a 
 very difficult one; even Joe owned to its being 
 pretty hard to travel — by which they could 
 reach the place whence they had started. 
 Bruce wrapped his coat about Ada, and half 
 supported, half carried, her along a path which 
 only a strong-headed and enduring person 
 could have traveled unassisted. 
 
 And at last, at last, theyreached the " Haw- 
 ley place " to find the old woman and Bob in 
 a state of excitement and dismay, for the 
 sudden rush of water along the Cafion bottom 
 had told only too plainly what had occurred. 
 
THE M'JSGROVE MA.VCIl. Igl 
 
 and their fears for the safety of the party had 
 been of the gravest. Their rejoicing was pro- 
 portionately great when the three returned, 
 Ada was, however, terribly exhausted, and had 
 to rest for hours after being furnished with dry 
 garments by the old woman, before the journey 
 back to the ranch could be attempted. 
 
 At the ranch, too, great was the anxiety at 
 the protracted absence of the cousins. Hugh 
 at length set out to discover the cause of the 
 delay, feeling far more uneasy than he had 
 allowed his mother or Nettie to suspect. 
 
 Half-way to the Canon mouth, he met them, 
 Aleppo traveling homeward with a speed 
 which betrayed Bruce's eager anxiety to reach 
 the ranch as speedily as possible. 
 
 The words of explanation were few, and it 
 was not until hours afterwards that the others 
 knew the extent of the peril through which 
 Ada had passed. 
 
 My tale of the Musgrove Ranch is nearly 
 ended. Those who have followed with a 
 kindly interest my simple story will be glad 
 to know that Bruce Musgrove, from that dread- 
 ful moment when he felt himself utterly power- 
 less to avert so terrible a calamity, and threw 
 himself with an instinct of faith upon the mercy 
 
1 92 THE MUSG ROVE RANCIT. 
 
 of God, never relapsed into a condition of mind 
 which was so unworthy of his strong and noble 
 nature. 
 
 And thus, when, after weeks of suffering, 
 caused by the exposure of that terrible day, 
 Ada was well enough to hear the story which 
 Bruce's heart had so long prompted him to 
 tell, there was no reason why she should 
 not admit that her whole heart was indeed 
 bound up in the dear Musgrove Ranch, but 
 more particularly in him who had made it 
 what it was. 
 
 We need not feel any special sympathy with 
 Miss Crofton, who was not long in consoling" 
 herself for Bruce's failure to appreciate her 
 attractions, and even condescended to be a 
 guest at the wedding — a wedding which was 
 almost the happiest day in the life of the faith- 
 ful missionary at Caliente ; for Bruce Mus- 
 grove, who, like the California climate, did 
 nothing by halves, had long since admitted 
 his injustice and arrogance to so brave and 
 patient a person, and had become his staunch- 
 est friend and supporter. 
 
 There was no likelihood that in the future, 
 within the reach of Bruce Musgrove's influence 
 and example, there would be clergy wretchedly 
 housed and living on a pittance, or whose ear- 
 
THE MUSGRO VE RANCH. j g ^ 
 
 nest and self-denying labors would be held in 
 contempt. 
 
 Mrs. Ashleigh, not quite so frail, and so much 
 happier than of old, was specially so in the 
 happiness of the girl who had been the direct 
 cause, by God's blessing, of the new and 
 brighter era which had opened for the Church 
 in that favored region. 
 
 And as for Hugh and Nettie and dear Mrs. 
 Musgrove, it was to one and all a day of great 
 rejoicing, for now it was a settled fact that she 
 whom they had learned to love so well was 
 permanently to have her home at the Mus- 
 grove Ranch. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 Miss Vonge's latest story is an historical romance of the times of 
 the Cavaliers and Roundheads. It is full of the interest and force 
 for which this popular writer is so widely noted. 
 
 II. 
 
 FIGHTING THE SEA; or, A Winter at the 
 Life-Saving Station. By Rev. Edw.^rd A. Rand. 
 i2mo, cloth. Illustrated. $1.25. 
 
 A capital story of heroism and adventure, for young folks, by a 
 popular author. 
 
 III. 
 
 INCHFAWN. A Story. By L. T. Meade. i2mo, 
 cloth. Illustrated. ^1.50. 
 
 A very charming story of Irish life and character. 
 
 IV. 
 
 WOODLAND TALES. By Julius Stixde, author 
 of " The Buchholz Family." i2mo, cloth, gi.oo. 
 
 Contents: Aunt Juliana; His Stupid Wife; Brother Johannis ; 
 Three Times Ten Years ; Bello ; Princess Goldhair. 
 
 V. 
 
 HER GENTLE DEEDS. By Sarah Tytler, author 
 of "Citoyenne Jacqueline," etc. i2mo, cloth. Illus- 
 trated. ,S!i.50. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE STRENGTH OF HER YOUTH. By 
 
 Sarah DouDNEY. 12 mo, cloth. Illustrated. 90 cents. 
 
 New York: THOMAS WHITTAKER, 2 and 3 Bible House. 
 
STORIES TO BE HAD AT ALL THE LIBRARIES. 
 
 VII. 
 
 OLDHAM ; or, Beside all Waters. By Lucy 
 Ellen Guernsey. i2mo, cloth. Illustrated. ^1.50. 
 
 *' The story is uncommonly pretty, and winningly told ; and it is 
 full of timely hints to summer visitors, with reference to the good 
 they may do while staying in the country." — - The Times. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE HOME OF FIESOLE. A Story of the Times 
 of Savonarola. i2mo, cloth. Illustrated. ^1.25. 
 
 " It is an intensely interesting story of Savonarola and his times, 
 which it would profit any one to read." — Sundav Gazette (Akron, O.). 
 
 " Skilfully wrought, and full of beauty and historic interest." — The 
 Nciv- York Observer. 
 
 IX. 
 
 HEROES OF ANCIENT GREECE. A Story of 
 the Days of Socrates the .Athenian. By Ellen Palmer. 
 i2mo, cloth. Illustrated. ^1.25. 
 
 " A pleasant love story of the Peloponnesian War. The social 
 and political manners of Athens and Sparta are well depicted. There 
 is a little of Herodotus, something of Thucydides and Xenophon, a 
 touch of Greek religion, philosophy, and Socrates." — The Literary 
 World. 
 
 A POPULAR SERIES. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas Whittaker is publishing a ' Half-Hour Library of 
 Travel, Nature, and Science.' It is handsomely gotten up and illus- 
 trated. Among the volumes are 'Half-Hours in Field and Forest,' 
 and ' Half-Hours with a Naturalist,' by the Rev. J. G. Wood; ' Half- 
 Hours in the Holy Land,' by Norman Macleod, etc. It is a most 
 interesting series, and is especially adapted to young people. It will 
 give them both pleasure and profit." — The Press. 
 
 HALF -HOURS WITH A NATURALIST. Rambles 
 
 near the Shore. By Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A. Over 100 fine 
 woodcuts, i^mo. $1.50. 
 
 HALF-HOURS IN FIELD AND FOREST. Chapters 
 
 in Natural History. By Rev. J. G. Wood, M.A. Over 100 
 fine woodcuts. i2mo. jSi.50. 
 
 HALF-HOURS IN THE HOLY LAND. Travels in 
 
 Egypt, Palestine, and Syria. I'.y Nokman Macleud, D.D. 
 Over 100 fine woodcuts. i2mo. $1.50. 
 
 New York : THOMAS WHtTTAKER. 2 and 3 Bible House.